


Infinity

by Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: Invasion (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: 2 years after Homestead was left in shambles, things are nearly back to normal.  But an encounter with something unpleasant from the past reminds Tom and Russell that they still aren't out of danger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a scene, which grew into a 71-page story with many appendages. In the future, I might write a sequel to this if anyone is interested in reading it.

Finding a spot in the Everglades National Park to lay down a blanket for a picnic could sometimes be a hassle depending on the weather. After a hurricane, the ground would be too soft and mushy to sit on, and would turn any article of clothing – or blanket – into a muddy disaster. Even on a clear day, like today, Park Ranger Russell Varon had to be careful to check for snakes and alligators in the surrounding vicinity. Some of the snakes were so unimaginably large that they could put the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park to shame.

 

At the sound of a car pulling up beside his parked company truck, Russell glanced over in expectation. While there were quite a few Homestead deputy cruisers in commission, there was only one vehicle that had _Sheriff_ written on both sides of it, and that car unmistakably belonged to Sheriff Tom Underlay. It seemed like Tom was in a bit of a rush because he nearly clipped the truck’s side mirror in his haste to park the cruiser. Finding that amusing, Russell turned his wrist so that he could check the face of his black sports watch. _1:30pm_. Right on time. As usual. Tom was so anal about being punctual he would probably be the first in line at a funeral procession.

 

When Tom got out of the cruiser and shut the door with enough power to ensure that it latched, but not hard enough to slam it, Russell took a good long look at him. The sheriff was as presentable as he always was, brown uniform slacks neatly pressed, white dressed shirt tucked in properly with his nametag and sheriff’s badge pinned on all nice and horizontal. His blondish-brown hair was combed over neatly, parted on the left as was his preference, and longer in the back – just barely touching his collar. And on a bright day like today, Tom was never without his trusty Ray-bans, which protected his sensitive blue eyes from the sun’s rays. In the past, Russell had assumed that Tom wore them to look arrogant, but when the hybrid had lost them during a scuffle with a drunken pickpocket and had nearly driven off of the road when the sun had blinded him, he had learned differently.

 

“You’re on time,” Russell called out to Tom as he dropped the blanket onto the section of grass that he’d cleared of rocks and debris.

 

“Aren’t I always?” Tom replied, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk.

 

Russell watched Tom approach, not minding that the sun was in his eyes because he’d grown used to it a long time ago. Besides, Russell’s brown eyes weren’t as affected by the light to the extent that Tom’s were. He had no use for sunglasses blocking his vision or creating those red pressure marks on either side of the bridge of his nose that Tom did his best not to complain about. As Tom got closer, walking in that confident swagger of his that sorely tempted Russell to just grab him, he noticed that Tom was unarmed. In fact, he wasn’t wearing his utility belt at all, which was strange for a Tuesday. Tom often worked late on a Tuesday.

 

“Don’t you have to go back to work later this afternoon?”

 

Tom slipped under a low hanging branch and surveyed the shady spot that Russell had chosen for their picnic, before he removed his sunglasses and put them into his left breast pocket. “Lewis insisted that I take the afternoon off,” Tom said casually as he bent down to untie his slightly scuffed work shoes.

 

“But you _never_ take the afternoon off,” Russell scoffed, stopping short of calling Tom a workaholic.

 

“I’ve apparently accumulated more sick days than I’m able to carry over to the next year. Lewis advised me to use a few up before I lose them.”

 

“Sick days?” Now Russell was worried. Wrenching off his own tightly laced work boots, he brushed the dirt off of his jeans and sat down beside Tom on the blanket. “Are you feeling sick?”

 

“Russ, you know that hybrids aren’t affected by the viruses going around this time of year,” Tom sighed. But he avoided making eye contact, which was a clear sign that he was hiding something.

 

“Yeah, but you’re not usually in the habit of taking advice from your deputy. Your side isn’t still bothering you, is it?” Russell placed his hand gently over Tom’s right side, by his slim waist, causing the sheriff to flinch. “Why didn’t you say something?” Tom had been attacked by a raving lunatic from one of the new anti-hybrid groups that had sprung up overnight in Homestead’s usually peaceful community. The knife-wielding madman had cut Tom pretty deeply before he’d been subdued by several of the sheriff’s deputies. And the only reason why Tom had been lucky enough to have those law enforcers come to his aid was because the madman had attacked him in the middle of the sheriff’s department. That had happened last week and, despite Russell’s pleading and arguing, Tom had stubbornly decided to return to work yesterday.

 

“I felt fine this morning…”

 

“So why did Lewis send you home?”

 

Tom looked flustered for a moment before reluctantly answering. Russell would get it out of him one way or another, or else he’d go to Lewis for the information, and that was something that Tom wanted to avoid if at all possible. “I may have gotten dizzy this morning…”

 

“ _May have_?! And Lewis sent you home _this morning_?”

 

“What are you getting at?”

 

“Where the hell did you go after you left work?” Now Russell was more than a little upset, because Tom hadn’t felt it necessary to share this information with him. Always so secretive. Never considering the consequences of his actions. Sometimes Tom annoyed the heck out of Russell, or turned him into an overprotective wreck.

 

“I just drove around,” Tom answered vaguely, not letting on how sick he had really felt. Or revealing how he’d had to pull over to the side of the road when he’d become overly nauseous, no doubt a side effect of the painkillers that he’d been prescribed. As a hybrid, he had discovered that sometimes the side effects he experienced to prescription drugs were completely different from the ones listed on the information pamphlet he was given down at the pharmacy. And if he wasn’t dealing with a medical professional who was familiar with hybrids and their physiology, he had the tendency to just discontinue using the incompatible medicine without notifying the prescribing physician.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Russell slapped the ground in irritation and glared sideways at Tom. “You got behind the wheel while you were feeling dizzy? Are you trying to send me to an early grave? I had enough stress after being called down to the emergency room last week for you,” he ground out as he tried to resist the urge to start shouting. “If you keep this up, I’m going to move us out of here and force you to quit your job. Then we’ll see how much trouble you can get into.”

 

“Don’t be absurd,” Tom muttered. “You know that I don’t like it when you threaten me like that.”

 

“And you know I don’t like it when you keep things from me!” Now he was shouting. Lowering his voice back to a civilized growl, Russell wrapped his arm around Tom and pulled him in close. “Remember what you promised? No more secrets.”

 

“And you promised to stop throwing temper tantrums,” Tom countered in a much calmer tone than Russell’s berserk one. He rested his head on Russell’s broad shoulder and let his eyes slide shut with an exhausted sigh. “I don’t have the energy for this right now, Russ.”

 

After a few seconds of teeth grinding and fist clenching, Russell slowly released all his pent up frustration in an exaggerated exhale of air. “Can you at least tell me _why_ you felt the need to lie to me again?”

 

“I didn’t lie. You didn’t ask me how I was feeling this morning, so…”

 

“Because I was late for work. That’s not the type of thing that I should have to ask you. You should volunteer that information so that I don’t worry. Tom, if anything were to happen to you…” Russell uncomfortably cleared his throat and began to caress the hybrid’s face with his callused hand. “I can’t go through all this again, Tom. I don’t _want_ to go through this again.”

 

“Neither do I,” Tom protested, knowing perfectly well what Russell was referring to.

 

“We’re both on our third marriage and I’ll be damned if there’s ever going to be a fourth. You’re it, Tom – the last. I can’t lose you…” Not like he had lost Larkin, his previous wife. It had cost Russell several months of drunken grief recovering from that, after which he’d finally worked up the courage to reach out to Tom, who had been going through his own private misery over his divorce and the trauma that Szura and his hybrid army had left behind. Although crossing the line between friends and lovers had been fraught with obstacles and drama, once they’d stepped over that line, the rest had quickly fallen into place. It hadn’t taken long for them to fall in love and grow dependent on the other, and shortly after that, Russell had proposed to Tom. The rest of the details after that had been inconsequential. Going down to Homestead City Hall for the marriage certificate, Tom changing his last name to Underlay-Varon – although he left it unchanged with the sheriff’s department to avoid confusion, the small party that the children had thrown for them… While all those things had been important, nothing had mattered more than the vows they had taken to stand by each other through life and death.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tom apologized, something he rarely did. “I just didn’t want to worry you.”

 

“And now you know that by not telling me, you actually make me worry more. So next time, try to do the opposite of whatever your faulty logic tells you to do.” Russell covered Tom’s left hand with his own, drawing his fingers over the platinum diamond-studded wedding band that had set him back nearly two whole pay checks – after tax deductions. He’d had it engraved on the inside to read _R.V.+T.U.V.=Infinity_ , making sure that he didn’t choose any cliché phrases that would remind Tom of his previous wedding band. Since they’d gone shopping for rings separately, Russell had ended up with a very plain – yet thick – double band of platinum and yellow gold, stamped with the logo from some high-end designer brand that must have cost Tom a small fortune. Tom hadn’t known what to have it engraved with, so he’d just gone with what Russell had come up with. Russell sat there for a few minutes, comforting Tom with his touch and hopefully easing whatever pain his husband was still feeling. “Tom,” he disturbed the silence when his stomach growled impatiently. “It was your turn to buy lunch.”

 

“Oh, I forgot. It’s on the passenger’s seat.”

 

“No. Stay here. I’ll get it.” Russell firmly pressed Tom back down by his shoulder and got up to retrieve their lunch. Neither of them had much free time for packing a lunch during the weekdays, so they usually alternated between picnicking with deli sandwiches, sushi platters – which Russell didn’t actually like, or cold pizza, or eating in the food court of the nearest plaza on a rainy or windy day.

 

Having shoved his feet back into his boots, but leaving the laces undone, Russell went over to the sheriff’s cruiser and pulled open the passenger’s side door. _Please don’t be sushi. Please don’t be sushi._ He didn’t want to hurt Tom’s feelings by prohibiting sushi in their relationship, because if he did that, Tom would get revenge on him by refusing to allow curry into the house. Sometimes the way they fought felt warm and familiar instead of angry and hostile. Peering inside the plastic bag on the seat, he discovered a new menu option that hadn’t been there before – hot dogs. With just enough supermarket vegetables to counteract the carcinogenic properties of those delicious all-pork childhood favorites.

 

“Tom, I really love you,” Russell said with a grin as he returned to the picnic spot with their meal.

 

Tom had stretched out onto the blanket and was lying on his side, gazing up at Russell with adoration. “I love you, too, Russ.”

 

“Are you trying to put me off my lunch?” Russell complained, dropping the bag onto one corner of the blanket in favor of crawling on top of Tom and pinning him down by his wrists. When Tom just smiled up at him innocently, Russell brushed his lips over the hybrid’s in a teasing kiss. “You know you’re beautiful, right?” He murmured, pressing another kiss to one of Tom’s high cheekbones, and then rubbed the stubble of his jaw affectionately against the hybrid’s smooth skin. He waited until Tom’s exceptionally vibrant blue eyes looked up at him again before he went in for another kiss. Tom had the unwitting habit of igniting a very profound appetite within Russell, one that had nothing to do with food. Russell was a very aggressive lover whereas Tom was seductive and sensual, gauging the atmosphere before he decided which he preferred to be. But once Russell got him going, Tom could be extremely intense and insatiable, until Russell figured out what it was that the hybrid needed on that particular day. It was that kind of mystery and unpredictability that kept their relationship fresh and exciting.

 

“Russ, I think we should eat later,” Tom sighed, stretching against the strength of the hands at his wrists and becoming incredibly aroused when he realized that the grip was impenetrable.

 

“Much later,” Russell agreed, pulling back a bit so that Tom would have to fight harder to get at him. But when Tom cringed in discomfort, Russell relaxed his grip on Tom’s right wrist and made sure that he kept his knee away from the area of the knife injury. That was all the leeway Tom needed to strain upwards to lick Russell’s bottom lip, before he latched onto it with his teeth and playfully tugged on it. “Holy shit, that’s going to cost you,” Russell threatened, the sensation of Tom’s wet tongue on his lips going straight to his groin.

 

“All my money is invested in our house,” Tom goaded as he squirmed beneath Russell. “How are you going to make me pay?”

 

“I can think of several options…and they all involve your body.” Russell leaned down to nip at Tom’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth before blowing hotly into Tom’s ear. Tom’s reaction was both vocal and electric, his moan punctuated by the shiver that ran down his spine. He arched up, trying to distract Russell with another kiss, but his husband could not be deterred. When Russell pulled Tom’s partially unbuttoned shirt open with his teeth and nuzzled the base of the hybrid’s throat with his mouth, he was rewarded with a stifled whimper. That meant that Tom was doing his best to suppress his emotions for fear of losing control. But it was also an indication of how affected Tom was by the stimulus. “Are all hybrids this sensitive?” Russell mused, breathing against Tom’s throat as he worked his way up with tender kisses, alternating with soft flicks of his tongue. And all the while, Tom gasped and moaned, trying to escape him.

 

“I’ve never studied hybrid sexuality… I wouldn’t know…” Tom panted, making a soft sound of approval when Russell sealed their lips together in another passionate kiss.

 

Russell kissed Tom deeper, willing himself to ignore the metallic tang that he could faintly taste on Tom’s tongue. It had to be from either the antibiotics or the painkillers that Tom had been prescribed. As opposed to turning Russell off, it only made him kiss Tom more fiercely, reminding the hybrid why it was so important that he be careful. He couldn’t afford to let anything happen to Tom, not when he relied on him for his sanity and continued existence.

 

After an extended kissing session, which left Tom breathless and Russell hungrier than ever, they were broken apart by the sound of something splashing in the cove nearby. Russell defensively leaned back onto his haunches, releasing Tom’s wrists, and reached for the shotgun that he had laid down next to the blanket. It was a force of habit, really, because most of the creatures that roamed around the Glades could be dealt with in a non-violent manner. Still, one could never be too careful, especially not when Szura’s legacy had yet to be extinguished.

 

“Russ?” Tom tried to pull his legs free but couldn’t with Russell’s ass conveniently resting on his thighs. “I think that you’ve had too much caffeine again today.”

 

“Shh!” Moving with the stealth of a cougar hunting down its prey, Russell removed his weight from Tom’s legs, placed his hand on the hybrid’s hip to prevent him from getting up, and crept past the bushes with his shotgun cocked.

 

Affronted by having been shushed by his husband out in public, Tom glowered at Russell’s back for a moment, before pushing himself back up into a sitting position, and wincing. The wound just wasn’t healing as quickly as it usually would, and Tom was pretty sure he knew the reason why. When he’d arrived at the hospital last week after being stabbed, the first doctor who had seen to him had been Mariel – obviously. There was a special note in his medical file stating that Dr. Mariel Peyton – Mariel had also remarried a while back and had changed her last name, yet again – was to be contacted immediately if his condition was such that he required surgery, or a blood transfusion. Last week he had required both.

 

Tom hadn’t been in the hospital for more than a few scrapes and bruises since Father Scanlon had tried to murder him, so it had been a while since he’d needed a blood transfusion. Although it had felt a bit uncomfortable and awkward when Mariel had rolled up her sleeve in preparation for the blood transfusion, Tom hadn’t worried much about it. Ex-wife or current friend, he trusted Mariel implicitly as she’d given him no reason to doubt her. But, as soon as her blood began to flow through his veins, he had begun to question if maybe that trust had been misplaced.

 

He remembered his veins feeling as if they were on fire, and then his flesh beginning to overheat as his body began to have a serious transfusion reaction to Mariel’s blood. Somehow, he had known that her blood was the cause of the excruciating pain churning inside of him and had tried to claw the IV line out in a panic. It had taken Mariel a few seconds longer to react, completely baffled by the temperature spike in his body and his physical response to the IV line. But Mariel was also a hybrid and had automatically understood, once she had taken a moment to consider the facts in front of her, that her blood was no longer compatible with his. But if her blood would not suffice, then who could they use as a donor?

 

Just when Tom had been on the verge of passing out, his vision distorted by the oxygen mask over his face, he had felt a warm hand firmly grip his own. And the connection that he had felt to that warmth had been magnetic, as if it were a part of him. Then, he had heard Russell’s fuzzy voice over the frantic discussion between Mariel and another doctor.

 

 _“Give him my blood,”_ Russell had demanded.

 

 _“But you’re not…,”_ and Mariel had hesitated, waiting for the other doctor to step out of hearing range before continuing. _“You’re not a hybrid.”_

_“Maybe that’s not the way it works,”_ Russell had argued. _“He needs a blood transfusion and you have no one else. I’m his husband and I’m telling you to give him my blood.”_

_“If you’re wrong…”_

But Russell hadn’t been wrong. It didn’t seem to matter whether a hybrid chose another hybrid – or a human – as a mate. What mattered was that once they had established their relationship, the hybrid’s blood and organs would adapt to that of their mate’s, making transplants and transfusions possible. And, once that relationship was dissolved, the link between hybrid and mate would become null and void. Which was exactly what had happened between Tom and Mariel.

 

“Tom, are you okay?”

 

Tom blinked up at Russell tiredly and nodded. “Just still a bit sore.” There was no sense lying about it now because he couldn’t mask the pain, just like he couldn’t quickly expel Mariel’s tainted blood from his system. It would take time for it to completely work its way out, and from there, he would be able to heal. “Did you find your sea monster?”

 

“No. There are only frogs out there.” Russell sat back down but didn’t immediately relinquish his grip on the shotgun. “Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching us?”

 

Tom shot Russell an alarmed look, the sheriff in him interpreting the accusation in a different way. “What do you mean?”

 

“Not at the house,” Russell quickly clarified before Tom could get all worked up. “Just back here. In the Glades.”

 

“I think that it’s your overactive imagination.”

 

“Then why is it that every time we come down here I hear something in the water?”

 

“Do you want me to go and check?”

 

“No! I don’t want you anywhere near the water!” Russell grabbed Tom’s arm when the hybrid jerked back in fear. “Tom, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you getting hurt. You know that it probably isn’t safe for you to get too close to the water… not after what happened.”

 

After he had turned on his own kind in order to protect the humans? Tom was well aware of the way he had betrayed Szura’s army of genocidal hybrids, having killed a few when he’d fought alongside Russell during the record-breaking alien incursion into Homestead. The devastating hurricane that had led to many humans being changed into hybrids, and many more losing their lives. “It’s been two years, Russ. We haven’t encountered any more aliens in the water, and no one has come after me, so maybe it’s time that we moved on.” Tom placed his hands on Russell’s chest, leaned into him, and offered him an enticing distraction, which just happened to be a searing kiss.

 

“Okay,” Russell sighed, allowing Tom to placate his paranoia. With a kiss like that, it was impossible to do anything else. “We’d better eat because I have a million things that I need to get done by this afternoon, or I won’t be able to come back home tonight.” He grabbed a hotdog from the bag, along with a bottled water, and passed both to Tom. “You got three hot dogs. Two are for me, right?”

 

“Two are always for you,” Tom replied with a grin. “I have higher standards.”

 

“Tell me about it, Mister I-only-eat-real-beef,” Russell teased, before biting into his room temperature hotdog. He placed the container of assorted vegetables between them and picked up a carrot stick to jam into his hotdog bun. “Next time you might want to get four,” he joked as he started on the second hotdog.

 

Tom just shook his head and quietly finished off his own hotdog, holding back on expressing his negative feelings about fast food. Picking up a combination of carrot and cucumber sticks, he crunched away on them as he began to feel slightly better than he had when he’d driven into their favorite meeting spot and nearly crashed into the side of Russell’s truck when his vision had blurred. There was no way he was going to tell Russell just how close he had come to damaging both vehicles, which would have resulted in a major insurance claim. As well as injuring his pride.

 

“By the way,” Russell cut into the silence as soon as his second hotdog seemingly vanished into thin air. “I have something for you.” He reached into the side pocket of his jeans with one hand, taking hold of Tom’s left wrist with the other. There was a flash of silver and blue, which Russell fastened securely to Tom’s wrist.

 

“What’s this?” Tom curiously pulled at the two bands of blue woven cotton that connected to a silver infinity symbol on the one end and a silver medallion on the other. “An early birthday present?”

 

“Not exactly…” Russell watched Tom get to the medallion and prepared himself for the hybrid’s wrath. But surprisingly, Tom did not seem the least bit angry as he turned over the medallion to read the engraving, and then flipped it back over to display the _MedicAlert_ logo. “Hopefully you’ll never need to use it… but just in case.”

 

“ _Rare blood disorder. Only compatible donor Russell Varon_ ,” Tom quoted the engraving and then fell silent.

 

When Tom finally looked up at him and smiled warmly, Russell breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ll wear it?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? That was very thoughtful of you, Russ… as usual.” Tom ducked his head, but not before Russell could see that he was starting to blush.

 

“We have a few more minutes,” Russell said as he possessively embraced Tom from behind and buried his face in the hybrid’s neck. “And then you’re coming back with me to watch me dig up some invasive species.”

 

“As uninteresting as that sounds, I’d rather not,” Tom politely declined as he turned his head to catch Russell’s lips with his own.

 

“It wasn’t an invitation. You’re not driving.” Russell’s tone indicated that the topic was not up for discussion as he swallowed Tom’s protests with more kisses. “Maybe if you feel a little less sleepy later, you can help me out. If not, consider yourself confined to the truck.” Russell held Tom tightly when he noticed the hybrid’s blue eyes lose their focus for the third time in ten minutes. He hoped that it was only due to sleepiness and not an adverse reaction to the medication that the hospital had prescribed, or anything more worrisome. But when Tom began to drift off in his arms, not responding for several seconds, Russell grew very concerned. “Maybe we should get you back to the hospital for a checkup, just to play it safe.”

 

“I’m just… tired,” Tom murmured, his long eyelashes brushing against his high cheekbones before he forced his eyes open again.

 

From down by the water, Russell was distracted by more violent splashing and the disturbing sensation of something grazing his consciousness. If there was a vicious predator coming out of the water, he couldn’t let it get close to Tom or any of the other innocent visitors to the park. “Tom, I want you to wait here, okay? But don’t go to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Sure, Russ…” Tom sighed, his attention span growing weaker as the noises grew louder.

 

“I mean it, Tom. Don’t go to sleep!” Whatever was out there was really doing a number on Russell’s nerves. He didn’t know what it was, but he was absolutely certain that it was dangerous. He could feel its malice resonating in the atmosphere around him. But he couldn’t leave Tom unarmed and defenseless in case the creature bypassed him and happened upon their picnic spot. Russell placed the shotgun in Tom’s lap and gripped the hybrid’s shoulders in order to get him to focus. “If whatever it is gets past me, shoot it,” he ordered.

 

“Okay. I’m awake.” As soon as Russell let go, Tom got to his feet with the shotgun cradled against his shoulder, and watched his husband go venturing off into the undergrowth. “You’re so hypervigilant,” Tom muttered after a few moments of solitude. He was so tired that he didn’t think it strange when he stumbled backwards, his back striking the old cypress tree that they’d been using for shade. When the shotgun slipped from his grasp to clatter onto the ground, he made no attempt to pick it up again. He simply let his head fall back against the tree as his eyes slid shut and his arms dropped to his sides, letting the nightmares that were lying in wait claim him.

 

* * *

 

How many times had it been now? At least ten in the last month alone. It seemed like more often than not, Russell and Tom’s lunch hour was interrupted by someone or _something_ lurking in or around the water, literally within throwing distance of their picnic spot. Only recently had Russell begun to go after the noises, trying to track down whatever was at the root of them. And every time he came up empty-handed. No trace of human or animal anywhere to be found. But this time was different. Something was _different_.

 

If it had been an animal endemic to the Glades, Russell would have been able to characterize it based on its behavioral patterns. Most of the animals in the Glades were predictable or could be expected to act in a certain way under predetermined conditions. But what he was chasing after was both unpredictable and calculating. It was anticipating his actions and altering its behavior accordingly. Animals were not so quick to adapt. No. This was not any animal that Russell was familiar with.

 

But what was _different_ this time?

 

Russell stalked over to the edge of the water, visually scanning the shallow depths, as well as listening carefully with his ears. With the sun at its peak, casting blinding rays of light onto the surface of the water, which reflected into Russell’s eyes, it was like trying to stare into a pair of high beams on a car in the middle of the night. He couldn’t make out anything in the murky water aside from the aquatic plants and a thick sheet of insects buzzing around them. The water lilies and pondweeds blanketed most of the water anyhow, and they weren’t moving, meaning that nothing was hiding beneath them. Unless it was something that didn’t require oxygen for long periods of time.

 

The sudden metallic clang of a weapon being carelessly dropped onto the ground caused Russell to whirl around, ready to defend himself. He was breathing hard by the time he heard the second thud, but this one sounded a lot softer. Like that of a human body collapsing onto the ground, followed by the tiny sound of glass splintering.

 

“TOM!”

 

He was already on the verge of racing back to Tom when something tripped him up, sending him sprawling face first into the underbrush. Having sharpened reflexes from a life of living in the Glades with wild and dangerous animals, Russell kicked back at whatever had gotten in his way and got back up to battle it. But that something coiled around his ankle and yanked hard, pulled him off balance and swung him backwards to crash onto the dirt-filled embankment near the edge of the water. No animal Russell knew of was capable of throwing a fully grown adult male across a ten foot span of grass. What the hell was he dealing with?

 

“TOM!” Russell shouted again. Had this maniacally strong creature done something to Tom? Cursing savagely as he picked himself up off of the ground covered in scrapes and bruises, Russell whirled around and punched the towering orange mass that he came face-to-face with. If it had been any normal creature, that would have been enough to phase it at the very least, because Russell could throw a devastatingly powerful punch if in the right mood. But he hadn’t expected to be pitted against something so horrifying and ghastly that it made his worst nightmares look like cartoons for preschoolers in comparison.

 

Although Russell had only spotted the glowing orange aliens from afar two or three times since he’d become aware of their existence, he had never seen one up close. The other times the creatures had been moving horizontally with mostly their backs and tails visible, so Russell had never really appreciated their sheer bulk or length, or their hideous underbellies. When standing erect by using the base of its long orange tail as an anchor, the creature was quite large and intimidating. At least a foot taller than Russell, not including the tail. It was flailing its tentacles sinisterly at Russell, the sharp hooks protruding from each one dripping with water and some other viscous substance that he couldn’t identify.

 

What did it want?

 

These creatures usually only showed up during major hurricanes, and even then, they only appeared to hapless storm victims who had wandered too close to the water. But there hadn’t been a hurricane in weeks, and the last alien sighting had been two years ago. On top of that, Russell hadn’t been anywhere near the water. And that’s what made this brazen attack all the more disturbing.

 

When Russell lashed out at the creature again, realizing that he was in danger of being herded into the water, one of the tentacles struck out at him, grazing the left side of his face.

 

“What did you do to Tom?!” He snarled at the creature, blocking another tentacle as it aimed for his midsection, coming away with a bloodied arm instead. But of course the creature had no way of communicating its intentions and made no effort to respond to him. It was like a giant alien manta ray with the short warped tentacles of a colossal squid.

 

It was when the creature slammed into him bodily, ramming him into the water, that Russell realized why today was different. Every other time he had come down to search for the disturbance in the water Tom had been with him. This invasive alien species had already gotten its spiky clutches on the original Tom Underlay, turning him into a clone of combined human/alien DNA – effectively redesignating him as a _hybrid_ , as they were now being called. But Tom was a nonviolent hybrid who had dedicated his rebirth to protecting and upholding the peace, for both humans and hybrids alike. Or at least he had been until he’d been forced to take action against Szura. And of course word had gotten back to the creatures about the sins Tom had committed against his creator. And with them being an aggressive species, they had sought vengeance, biding their time with stalking Tom until they could deal out their retribution. But hybrids were sworn to never kill their own kind, so the creatures had decided that the best way to punish Tom was by killing or changing Russell.

 

That’s why Tom had been feeling dizzy and sleepy all day. While usually quite mentally strong against manipulation and coercion, Tom had yet to recover from his injury and his toxic reaction to the incompatible blood that he had received during the transfusion. The aliens had rendered him docile twice before when they had taken first Mariel, and then Tom’s deputy Lewis, into the water. Tom had described it as a sort of hypnotism where he hadn’t been able to physically move or emotionally react to what was happening. But making Tom feel physically ill and then depriving him of the ability to stay conscious was probably a few desperate levels up in the creature’s powers of subjugation. If Tom woke up to find Russell dead or missing, it would kill him. And the idea of never seeing Tom again caused something inside Russell to break a little.

 

“TOM!” Russell cried out one last time, before he was dragged off of the embankment, into the water, and deep into the darkness below.

 

* * *

 

Inside Tom’s mind a war was being waged – a war that he seemed destined to lose. He was surrounded by the glowing orange aliens in a terrifying nightmare that he couldn’t seem to escape. They were everywhere. Rows and rows of them as far as the eye could see. And every time Tom tried to move against them to escape the confines of his own mind, the aliens became more hostile, subduing him both mentally and physically without the need to actually touch him. They used their psychic way of communicating with their own kind in order to probe Tom’s mind, peeling back layers of memories, attempting to pervert and contort everything that made him who he was. And the memories that they were most interested in were the ones that contained Russell. They tried to wrest anything related to Russell out of reach, to purge it from existence. And, at the bottom of the agonizing mental struggle, Tom was given an explanation and the desired outcome.

 

_Traitor! You will serve out your exile alone and broken. The one known as Russell shall be no more._

While the aliens had undoubtedly hoped to force Tom’s fortitude to crumble with that threat, it had the opposite effect of willing his mind to fight harder, to push back the glowing orange tendrils that were penetrating his mind. _Stay away from Russell!_

_He is unworthy of merging with our species. He will be absorbed instead._

That painted a very upsetting image for Tom, one that sparked a quiet fury inside of him, which resulted in a psychic conflagration that torched the minds of the creatures attempting to destroy his own. They would not hurt Russell. _Nothing_ would take Russell from him – ever!

 

The creatures began to retract their psychic connections, screeching in pain as the flames within Tom’s mind grew higher, scorching those that tried to remain. While the aliens’ powers were a considerable pressure that continued to bombard Tom with threats and indirect attacks, Tom’s love for Russell was many times stronger.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of mental strife, Tom regained consciousness so abruptly that it felt like he had crashed into something physical. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees on the blanket that he’d fallen onto and groaned, trying to bring everything back into focus. His sunglasses were lying on the blanket in fragmented shards, where they had been crushed under his body weight, his bottled water had rolled clear off the blanket to rest against a nearby tree stump, and the shotgun was lying near his left thigh.

 

“Russ…” Tom’s voice came out sounding distorted, like it was trapped in a large, empty space. How long had he been out? “Russell!” He shouted louder, the sound echoing in his ears. Picking up the shotgun, Tom stumbled over and through the underbrush in his socks, immediately blinded when he broke into the clearing that was filled with the dazzling light of the sun. “RUSSELL!” He couldn’t see anything, but he could sense something. A presence beneath the water that was bubbling with murderous intent. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself and prepare for what he was about to do, Tom dropped the shotgun, pulled his car keys out of his pocket, and splashed into the water. He took a few long strides out, wading past the shallow end, and dove straight down into the deep end where he knew the creature to be.

 

The orange glow was impossible to miss as the creature was using its full power to hold Russell under by his ankles and ward off the blows the park ranger was delivering to its remaining tentacles. Russell was not like the others who had been taken down before. He could not be hypnotized and he refused to go quietly. Instead of reacting scared or intimidated, Russell was violently grappling with the creature in an underwater battle to the death. Although a twinge of relief flashed through Russell’s eyes upon seeing Tom dive down to join forces with him, he deliberately set his expression back to a neutral hatred so as not to alert the alien to his husband’s presence.

 

Tom grabbed the alien by one of its tentacles, doing his best to avoid the hooked spikes on the end of it. He pulled with all his strength, trying to get it to release Russell. But it ignored him as if he were of little concern, letting the effort exhaust him. Realizing that this was not going to be easy, Tom swam over to Russell, pressed his hands to his husband’s scruffy cheeks, and sealed their mouths tightly together. Russell got the message, accepting the oxygen that Tom was offering him by cupping the back of his blond head to hold him still. He reluctantly shut his mouth again when Tom pinched him, letting go so that the hybrid could swim back up to the surface for more air. While Tom could stay underwater for a considerably longer length of time than any human could, it was only if he didn’t release the oxygen that he currently had in his lungs.

 

After sucking in another few mouthfuls of air, Tom dove back down to attack the tentacles at Russell’s ankles again. But nothing he did would get them to release his husband. And Russell’s reflexes were beginning to slow underwater, leaving him open to those lethal looking spikes that could burrow into the flesh bone deep. Even after yanking on the tentacles, and digging his heels into them, they refused to budge, and the alien continued to assume that Tom posed no threat.

 

Once again, Tom returned to Russell to share his oxygen, trading a look of sadness and desperation with his husband. He couldn’t fire the gun into the water, not without taking the risk of hitting Russell, too. And even if he could take such a risk, the water would mess up his trajectory and slow the bullet down. It would never hit with enough force to do mortal damage to the alien.

 

As Russell greedily drank from the oxygen that Tom was providing him with, his muscular arms came round to wrap around the hybrid’s waist, holding him as close as he could. Even after the transfer had been completed and Tom’s lips were firmly closed again, Russell frantically rubbed their cheeks together, communicating through actions what he couldn’t say. When Tom pulled away again to gaze at him, looking completely heartbroken, Russell kept his expression determined. That was all it took to send Tom back to the surface to recover his lost air. And, as soon as Tom was out of the way, the tentacles resumed their attack on Russell’s body.

 

The third time Tom returned to the water, he secured his keys between his knuckles – one for the cruiser, another for the front door of the sheriff’s headquarters, and the last for the holding cells – mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. The creature had left him with no choice. He would kill it without hesitation if it refused to give up Russell.

 

Tom swam down behind the creature, still being treated as a mere distraction that didn’t need to be dealt with. Knowing by instinct that the back area where the tentacles were attached was a weak spot for the alien, Tom dug all three keys into it, twisting them in as deep as he could, before tugging them out and moving onto the next spot. By the time he reached the third spot, the alien had released Russell and whipped around to confront him. He quickly brought his arms up to protect his head, predicting that the alien would attempt to knock him out before dealing with him later. But he was wrong. One of the tentacles lashed out at him, ripping through the fabric of his shirt and striking his injured right side. The shock of the pain caused Tom to gasp, losing all the oxygen that he had stored up in his lungs as his vision streaked with red. And the alien didn’t stop there. It seemed to have come to the conclusion that Tom was worth destroying, whether it was viewed as a crime among its race or not. Before Tom could bring his hands down to shield his injury, he was struck again in the same place, with the same results. The water surrounding him became murky red with his blood as his head began to pound with the urgent need for oxygen.

 

Having shot to the surface for a few desperate mouthfuls of air, Russell immediately dove back down again to assist Tom. He was horrified to see the amount of blood in the water, his eyes widening in terror as he saw a third tentacle about to exploit Tom’s injury once more. Propelling himself into the tentacle’s path, he grabbed it mid-strike and deflected it elsewhere. They couldn’t fight the alien down here in the thick, heavy waters where just moving weighed heavily on their bodies, never mind fighting. This was the alien’s territory and there was nothing to be gained and everything to lose by remaining in it. Russell wrapped one arm around Tom’s chest, pulling the keys from the hybrid’s grasp with his other hand. When the alien tried to come in close for another attack, Russell slashed it as deeply as he could with all three keys, raking them down the length of the tentacle. Then he kicked his legs hard, not paying attention to the stinging sensation in his ankles that meant the tentacles had no doubt pierced him good. He pulled Tom out of the water and carried him up onto the embankment.

 

“Tom! Are you still with me?” Russell shouted in a near panic as he lay Tom down on the ground and applied pressure to his wound.

 

“Russ…” Tom looked deathly pale from the blood loss but his blue eyes were still as sharp as ever. “It’s coming back…”

 

Russell grabbed both of Tom’s hands and pressed them hard against the wound. “Keep up the pressure, okay? Don’t let go.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I don’t think that’s an option.” The second the creature sprang out of the water, Russell was on it, punching and kicking, having more luck than he had while in the water, but still not doing it any significant harm. He was about to resort to picking up rocks to bash into its slippery body when a deafening shot rang through the air. Russell whirled around to find Tom on his knees with the shotgun clutched at a bad angle, tilting towards his left side because his right was badly injured. But regardless of the angle, Tom never missed his target. All eight pellets that had been dispersed had torn through the creature’s appendages, even ripping one tentacle clear off. But the recoil had jolted Tom’s injury some more, causing him to drop the shotgun and hunch over his wound in agony.

 

Before the alien could retreat into the water again, Russell picked up the shotgun and fired off the last shot at close range, inflicting sufficient damage to drop the creature in its tracks.

 

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Russell hollered as he rushed back to Tom to get him into the truck.

 

“We can’t!” Tom shoved Russell off and gave him a tearful look that was full of anger, fear, and loss. “You have to finish it, Russ. You can’t let it rejoin the others.”

 

“You’ve lost too much blood,” Russell snapped at Tom. “I’m taking you to the hospital, _now_!”

 

Tom gripped Russell’s shoulder when he leaned down, pleading with him to do as he asked. “If you don’t destroy the evidence, it’ll only be a matter of time before they return in full force to kill us both.”

 

Swearing violently, Russell pulled off his wet t-shirt, bunched it up, and pressed it firmly to Tom’s side. “Hold it there. And call me if you begin to feel light-headed or dizzy.”

 

“I already feel both, so please hurry.”

 

Russell practically flew to the back of his ranger truck, climbing up into the flatbed to retrieve a machete and a shovel – tools which were regularly used for clearing paths through the Glades or dealing with hurricane cleanup. He hastened back to the twitching alien, glancing protectively at Tom, which coaxed the hybrid into looking the other way. Despite the fact that the alien had tried to kill them both, it was still extremely unsettling to have to hack through a live creature with sharp objects. But Russell kept at it until the alien stopped moving, and he had reduced it to small enough parts that could be concealed in the flatbed of his truck. He loaded them into the back, covered them with a black tarp, and then dug up the surrounding dirt to conceal the violent crime that had taken place there.

 

“Tom!” Russell shouted when he found the hybrid’s eyes closed tightly in both physical and spiritual pain. There were tears streaking down Tom’s face and his expression was one of utter devastation. He gathered Tom up into his arms and held him carefully, kissing his damp cheek as he tried to console him.

 

“I felt it...” Tom gasped as he began to lose consciousness.

 

“Felt what?”

 

“The creature die.”

 

Russell refused to shed a tear for the monster that had attempted to kill them both, but he could understand how its death may have affected Tom in a profound and inexplicable manner. What he couldn’t understand was why Tom had been forced to endure being linked to the alien during its dying moments. Was that another way of punishing the hybrid for his part in the murder? He lifted Tom up into his arms and carried him to the truck, making him as comfortable as he could in the cab. He could barely make out what Tom was whispering, it was so faint. But when he leaned over him, he could just make out, “ _no…hospital…_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Luckily the nearest ranger station had only been a five minute drive away, and Russell was the only one scheduled to be in it for the remainder of the day, so no one came out to question him when he parked the truck very close to the front doors. Unlocking Ranger Station 3, one of the more isolated bases, he flicked on all the lights, rushed into the lab area, and cleared one of the examination tables with a sweep of his arm. He then laid an emergency blanket down on it, rolling up a second blanket into a pillow, and tore back outside to bring Tom in.

 

Tom was unconscious and breathing shallowly, the blood flowing from his right side to stain the blanket that Russell lay him on. Since the ranger station was also used as a research station for studying and rescuing injured animals, as well as aiding citizens during a natural disaster, Russell had all the equipment that he needed to save Tom’s life. But did he have the emotional strength and skills that were necessary in order to do what Tom’s condition required? That was an entirely different question.

 

Opening up the flow on the oxygen cylinder and then adjusting the pressure regulator, Russell fastened the oxygen mask securely over Tom’s mouth and nose, and then dumped out all the tools he would need to sterilize and suture the wound. He worked quickly, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, and then irrigating the wound with a saline solution. He sterilized all the medical equipment next, followed by the wound itself, applying pressure to it again as he fought to calm himself and plan what he intended to do next. Tom was relying on him. One misstep could cost him his husband’s life. When his breathing had evened out again, he administered a local anesthetic near the site of the wound, picked up the hemostat and the suture needle, and worked quickly and confidently under the glaring white light that hung over the examination table. It felt like hours before he finished stitching Tom up, when in reality it had only taken a matter of minutes. Bandaging up the wound, Russell peeled off his surgical gloves and dumped them onto the tool tray. He touched Tom’s arm, finding it cool and clammy, and then took the hybrid’s pulse, which was weak and fast. Just stitching Tom up was not going to be enough judging by how much blood he had lost and how terribly pale and lifeless he now looked.

 

“Stay with me, Tom,” Russell pleaded as he unlocked another medical cabinet with shaking hands, removing the blood transfusion kit that was still in its original packaging. He knew how to use it, and he’d seen Mariel do it a few times, but the idea of actually doing it by himself was quite terrifying. There were many precautions that needed to be taken before the transfusion could take place, and Russell made sure that he went through them all with a fine tooth comb before he proceeded with the transfusion itself. Once he got it going, he sat down on a stool beside Tom and held his hand firmly. Russell watched the blood flow out from his vein, travel the length of the tube, and then wind its way down into the blood bag.

 

“You’re going to be okay, Tom,” Russell promised, reaching over with his other hand to begin stroking the hybrid’s damp hair. “Just hold on a little longer.” He double checked the oxygen flow and took Tom’s pulse again, occasionally glancing outside to make sure that there were no aliens preparing to storm the building. He desperately wanted to use the station’s landline to call Mariel and ask her for her professional advice, but he didn’t dare after he’d considered all the possible outcomes. As much as he liked and trusted Mariel, he couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t feel the unnatural instinct to side with the aliens if she discovered that he had killed one of them. Contacting Lewis was out of the question for the same reason. Despite the pain that he’d been in after being attacked by the alien, Tom had already come to the same conclusion. Tom was always one step ahead and that’s what made him the strategist while Russell often relied on his temper and brute force to get him through a tough situation.

 

After about fifteen minutes had gone by, Russell stopped the blood flow and removed the long needle from his vein, applying pressure to it for a minute before covering it with a bandage. He then set the bag up above Tom, swabbed the vein in the hybrid’s right arm, and carefully inserted the intravenous line. After taping the needle firmly in place, he stood up for a moment to stretch his legs and perform a quality check on Tom’s stitches. They seemed to be holding up, so Russell sat back down again and stroked up and down Tom’s arm. “Keep fighting, Tom. Just… keep fighting…” He watched the sun drop below the horizon, his hand never leaving contact with Tom’s body.

 

An hour after that the phone rang. Already on edge and worried that the noise would wake Tom, Russell grabbed it on the second ring and cautiously spoke into the receiver. “Hello?”

 

“ _Varon! Are you still there? I thought you wanted to get home to Tom early today._ ”

 

Mona, Russell’s longtime coworker who had hung around after the hybrid situation had gone public, sounded just a bit suspicious on the other end. So Russell worked extra hard to alleviate her suspicions and get her off the line before things got even more complicated than they already were. “Yeah, I was going to but… Tom and I got into a fight. So I thought I’d stay back a bit longer and blow off some steam. You know how it is.”

 

“ _Actually, no, I don’t. I’m not married and I don’t intend on falling into that trap anytime soon. What did you fight about?_ ”

 

“Stupid shit. Listen, Mona, I’ve got my hands full with a crippled frog that needs some fixing up. Was there something you needed?”

 

“ _Actually, I just needed you to double check on the readouts from those soil samples that we took a few days ago so I can compare them with today’s results._ ”

 

The readouts that were inside the desk all the way on the other side of the station? Shit! There was no way that was happening. He couldn’t leave Tom’s side, never mind wander off into another part of the building to look for stupid printouts. “I can’t right now. I’ll contaminate something.”

 

“ _Aren’t you already contaminating the phone?”_

 

“Exactly my point! I’ll call you back later, Mona.” Russell hung up the phone and caressed Tom’s face, looking for any signs of awareness but finding none. Donating his blood had only taken a matter of minutes, but it would take several hours before the transfusion was finished.

 

Letting another hour pass without taking his eyes off of Tom, Russell began to feel nervous about the chopped up alien corpse in the back of his truck. That still had to be properly dealt with but he no longer had the energy now that he was at a blood deficit. Somehow he got himself across the room and over to the emergency supplies cabinet where he ripped open a package of tasteless carbohydrate pellets and stuffed a handful into his mouth. He opened a bottled sports drink and drank it lukewarm to wash the dry rabbit food down his throat. Left with nothing better to do, he rolled up the legs of his pants and began to disinfect the bloody gashes along his ankles that the alien had branded him with.

 

“Russ…”

 

Russell knocked the pellets all over the floor in his haste to get back to Tom. “I’m here, Tom. How are you feeling?” He took hold of Tom’s free hand and stroked a finger over his knuckles, relieved to see those blue eyes looking up at him, no matter how dazed they looked.

 

“Really terrible…”

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

“You,” Tom breathed, his entire body tense with pain. “And some morphine.”

 

“Shit! I completely forgot!” Ransacking the medical supplies cabinet again, Russell picked out a tiny glass bottle of morphine, opened a fresh sterile needle, and filled it with the potent painkiller. He then swabbed down Tom’s left arm – the one that wasn’t receiving the blood transfusion – and quickly injected the solution. He was so tired that it was becoming a grievous task to think straight. Pulling out the last two blankets from the bottom of the cabinet, he covered Tom up with them and fretted that he was doing a half-assed job of caring for the man that he loved.

 

“Stop trying to talk,” Russell warned when it looked like Tom had more to say. He readjusted the oxygen mask and checked to make sure that the blood transfusion was still flowing steadily into Tom’s vein. “You told me not to take you to the hospital, so you’re at my station. You need to lie still for another hour or two until the blood transfusion is finished. And even then I don’t know if I should be moving you. I’m a park ranger with medical training, Tom, not an actual doctor. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

 

Tom reached over to weakly grab Russell’s arm and whispered, “you’re doing fine.”

 

At Tom’s words, Russell’s expression softened. “Like you would know the difference between a good doctor and a veterinarian,” he teased. Although Tom said nothing to that, Russell knew that he appreciated the sarcasm. Stroking his fingers over the fair hairs of Tom’s eyebrows, Russell’s voice became rougher when next he spoke. “I love you, Tom. Really, truly love you.”

 

“Love you… too…” Tom sighed, his breath fogging up the oxygen mask.

 

“Try to get some rest. After the transfusion is finished, I’m going to put you on an IV drip and go outside to… take care of some things.” Namely the alien body parts decomposing in the flatbed of his truck. When Tom raised his eyebrows in question, Russell did some mindreading in order to predict what it was his exhausted other half wanted to say. “I can’t leave this thing – or you – unattended right now. But I’ll take care of it, so you don’t have to worry. Anyway, it’s best to wait until everyone has gone home. No sense in attracting attention with a fire this early.”

 

Close to an hour and a half later, Russell blearily rubbed at his eyes and lifted his head up from where he’d rested it over Tom’s breastbone, listening to the comforting sound of the hybrid’s heartbeat. It had put him to sleep for over an hour, and when he woke up, his eyes immediately sought out the contents of the blood bag. _Empty._

 

“Okay, Tom, time for the IV drip,” he said with a yawn as he set to work taking apart the blood transfusion kit and flushed the line with a saline solution before switching over to the standard IV bag for rehydration. “If I ever get fired, which I just might if someone does an inventory check and finds all this stuff missing, I think I’ll become a nurse. What do you think?” But Tom couldn’t answer because he was fast asleep, probably feeling secure enough to relax with Russell nearby. “So, I’ll be a nurse and you’ll be a counselor for maladjusted hybrids. How does that sound?” It was mainly because Russell was so beat that he kept up his ridiculous monologue, needing to come up with something to get himself back into a calm state of mind. “Okay, all set. I’m going outside for a while, Tom, but I’ll be right back.” He bent down to kiss Tom on the forehead and check his vital signs one last time before he forced himself to get on with the dirty work.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Russell reentered the ranger station covered in soot and smelling like a chimney after someone had decided to roast old meat in it. His eyes were watering from the acrid stench of charred alien flesh barbecuing over an open flame, and his nails were caked with dirt from where he’d had to dig small inconspicuous holes to bury the thorny spikes from the aliens tentacles. Those hadn’t wanted to decompose. Russell hadn’t been able to identify what they were made of and had been pressed for time, so burying them had been the only option. After he’d put the fire out, he’d had to rework the whole area to remove any evidence of the alien remains and the fire itself. Was he being paranoid? Absolutely not! Not when he knew what the aliens were capable of. Not when the one he had burned had tried to kill himself and then Tom.

 

Staggering over to the emergency eye flush station, Russell splashed the lingering smoke out of his eyes, dried his face on a paper towel, and returned to Tom.

 

The IV drip was nearly complete.

 

“Tom, are you awake?”

 

“Can we go home now?” Tom weakly asked, probably feeling vulnerable after having woken up to find Russell missing.

 

“I’m sorry for leaving you, but I had to… uh… do that _other thing._ Just let me check your stitches one last time and clean this mess up, then we’ll be on our way.” He changed Tom’s bandages after discovering that they were heavily saturated, and then disconnected the IV. “I’m going to take the morphine with us. You can have more a little later on, if you need it.”

 

Methodically sweeping through the room, Russell disinfected and returned all the operating equipment to where he had found it; wiped down the counter and tray; threw away all the used bandages, surgical gloves, and needles that he had used, along with the IV bag and blood transfusion kit; and tied the bag up extra tight. He then stopped the oxygen flow, removed the mask from Tom’s face, and returned everything to the medical supplies cabinet after disinfecting them, too. Next, he took the plastic bag out to the truck and dumped it into the back of the cab, leaving both doors open.

 

“Have I missed anything?” Russell asked the infallible sheriff who had a perfect record for closing every single case he had ever taken on. Tom always caught the criminal he was after, no matter how clever they thought they were. No one could escape Tom Underlay-Varon, and that made Russell feel pretty damn proud.

 

“The paper towel you discarded at the emergency eye flush station. And don’t forget to sign out on your time sheet.”

 

“Oh, shit. Thanks!” After Russell had pocketed the used paper towel, and marked the end of his shift a full ninety minutes earlier, he returned to the examination table. Russell slid both arms under Tom and carefully lifted him. “Put your arms around me.” When Tom had wrapped both arms around his neck, Russell steadily carried Tom out to the truck and helped him into the passenger’s side. But the movement still caused Tom to wince in pain when his injured side was jostled too much. “Just hang in there. I won’t need to move you again until we get home.”

 

The blankets were the next items Russell stole from the ranger station, using them to keep Tom warm inside the truck. After he was sure that the area was clear, he locked the door and wiped his prints off of the handle. Then he raised his shotgun up, bringing the butt of it down onto the handle, smashing it clean off.

 

Back inside the truck, Russell was met with a very curious stare. “What?” He asked as he started the truck.

 

“Your criminal record never mentioned burglary,” Tom commented, sounding uncharacteristically surprised as he held his hand pressed to his side in discomfort.

 

“It’s not so much burglary as it is interfering with a crime scene. This way everyone will think someone broke in to steal the supplies.”

 

Tom suddenly patted down his still damp pockets, glancing up at Russell in a poorly concealed panic when he turned them inside out to reveal nothing inside. “Russ, where are my keys?!”

 

“Which keys?” Russell slowly drove down the dirt path so as not to aggravate Tom’s injury, and kept his headlights off to avoid attracting unwanted attention. It was very dark outside so he had to travel at a snail’s pace anyhow.

 

“My work keys.”

 

“The ones on the same ring as your car keys?”

 

“Yes! Do you have them?”

 

For a long harrowing moment, Russell did not respond. “I might have dropped them when I was pulling you out of the water,” he muttered guiltily.

 

“We have to go back for them! Russ, they’re _evidence_!” Tom leaned forward and hissed in pain as his rising hysteria affected his wounded side.

 

“Calm down! You’re going to tear the stitches open!” Russell used his arm to push Tom back into his seat and just held him there. “It’s too dark to look for them now. And evidence of what exactly? If there’s no dead body, and no murder weapon, then there is no crime.”

 

“What if there’s another alien in the water? You only erased the evidence detectable to other humans. The aliens won’t be so easily fooled.”

 

“Would you stop overexerting yourself and calm the hell down? I’ll go back to look for your keys tomorrow morning. And after I’ve found them, everything can go back to normal. Okay? Remember what normal is? We’ve had one whole year of normal together and I kind of like things that way. Just you – and me – and _normal_.” Russell cursed in exasperation when Tom insisted on getting all worked up.

 

“Things can never be _normal_ again.”

 

“Why the hell not?!”

 

“Because that alien tried to kill you to punish me! I can never go anywhere near the water again!”

 

Russell braked, threw the truck into park, and pulled Tom into his arms as the hybrid became overly emotional. “What are you talking about, Tom? Why wouldn’t you be able to go anywhere near the water? When I told you to stay away from the water earlier on, I meant only if you were alone. You’re the one who organized the Glades volunteer rescue group. If you don’t go into the water…”

 

“They can see into my mind. They will know that we killed that alien. And then they will use their influence over some weak-willed hybrid to have us both killed. Destroying the evidence only buys us time. This is not a problem that is ever going to go away.”

 

Stroking Tom’s back to try and temporarily alleviate his fears, Russell spoke reassuringly by his ear. “Tom, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to me. And I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll figure this out. We always do.” But deep down, Russell knew that Tom was right. That alien had left the sanctuary of the water in pursuit of them. It had attacked them in broad daylight in the middle of a public park. What was to stop its compatriots from doing so again, except this time in groups of two or more? What if even more of them were deposited into the water during the next hurricane? What then? Once they merged with humans, they became more sensible – although it really depended on the stability of the human’s mind – and less violent. On their own, the aliens were lethal predators that wouldn’t hesitate to assimilate any human that they came across.

 

“I don’t want them to change you,” Tom said as he brought up a new fear. “I love you the way you are, Russ. I can’t let them change you.” And then his breath hitched in his throat and he buried his face against Russell’s shoulder. “They tried to alter and erase my memories of you. What if I can’t stop them next time?”

 

So that’s what it had come to. Russell didn’t want to be changed either. There was nothing wrong with the way he was. He didn’t want to come back as a clone of his former self, wanting to start a new life of self-realization by casting Tom aside. And he never wanted to have to cope with the trauma of Tom being psychically attacked again and left with a damaging form of amnesia.

 

“Tom,” Russell said sharply, cutting into the hybrid’s ranting when he caught onto the ‘ _they_ ’ and ‘ _them_ ’. “Why do you keep using plurals?”

 

“Because we only saw one, but I was psychically attacked by a group of at least five or more.”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Russell softly swore. “Then there’s a strong possibility that they already know that we killed one of them. They’re able to sense when you’re nearby, but it goes both ways, right? Your senses are stronger than the other hybrids. Do you think you would be able to find this group?”

 

“Maybe… Why?”

 

“Because if there are only five or so aliens from the last batch still looking for humans to clone, then maybe we can contain this. The aliens communicate with each other, not directly with the hybrids. You’re the only hybrid they have ever been able to communicate with. If we can get to them before they’re able to relay a message to the others… Problem solved.”

 

“How are we going to eliminate five or six of these creatures when taking on one almost killed us both?”

 

“First of all, are you sure that you can accurately count these bastards psychically? If you miss one, Tom, we’re screwed. And if your mind isn’t strong enough to hold them off when you attempt this – again – we’re screwed.”

 

“I can’t do it now. Maybe after I’ve rested… Maybe then…”

 

“Okay, so we focus on that for now. You find them, and I’ll find a way to get rid of them. And then we’ll have a clean slate. No more record of Szura for the next batch to be brainwashed with – _if_ there is a next batch. And I really hope there won’t be.”

 

“Russ…”

 

“What now, Tom?” Russell sighed, thinking that Tom was opposed to the idea.

 

“I feel really nauseated.”

 

“Here, lie down.” Russell helped Tom lie down across the seats, allowing the hybrid to use his lap as a pillow. He knew that it was highly inadvisable to move Tom so quickly, but he didn’t have much choice. “Keep your eyes closed and try to relax.” Feeling really anxious about the aliens, the missing car keys, the abandoned cruiser, and the amateurish job he’d done of stitching Tom up, Russell barely had enough energy to make it home in one piece. But he managed anyhow, just like he always did, with one hand on the wheel and the other on his husband, keeping him calm and distracted so that he was able to tolerate the drive home.

 

* * *

 

Back at their house, Russell got Tom out of his damp clothes and added them to the pile of things that needed to be burned. Although they’d argued a lot on what kind of house to buy, Russell had won when it had come to there being a fireplace, which was a convenient way to barbecue in the winter – or burn evidence in the summer.

 

House hunting had taken over a month and a half before they’d settled for a tiny bungalow in a quiet residential neighborhood halfway between the Homestead Sheriff’s Department and the Everglades National Park, making commuting relatively hassle-free for both Russell and Tom. There had been many attractive candidates on the market, but two men having such different tastes had made shopping for a house an ongoing verbal boxing match. Tom had wanted large and spacious, with modern furnishings, a library, and more electronics than either of them could use at one time. But Russell had wanted small and rustic, like a cozy log cabin, with old fashioned furniture and dated textiles. In the end, Russell had gotten his way with the compact house and the handcrafted log furniture. In order to compromise, Russell had been forced to put up with the large flat-screen TV in the living room, a computer in the library/study, and two laptops that floated freely around the house – one of which Tom had given to Russell as a present that he hadn’t asked for. Of course, they also had to have the latest technology in home security in the neighborhood, and all the outdoor lights and lawn sprinklers on automatic timers.

 

While Tom’s unsalvageable uniform and Russell’s jeans were burning in the fireplace, Russell ran a warm shallow bath for Tom in their only usable washroom. The sink and toilet in the basement that had yet to be hooked up to a water supply just didn’t count as a washroom… yet. And neither of them ever went down to the basement for anything other than replacing blown fuses anyhow.

 

“You know…,” Tom began conversationally as Russell gently washed the distinctive smell of the Glades and the alien off of his skin, as well as the dried blood, with a soapy washcloth. “This might have been romantic if it weren’t for the pain in my side and the narcotic effects of the morphine.”

 

“I think that giving you a bath qualifies as more of an erotic activity than a romantic one,” Russell teased as he tried not to linger in any of Tom’s more sensitive areas. His knees were cramped from kneeling on the bathmat but he refrained from mentioning it because it was a minor discomfort compared to what Tom was probably feeling. “You’re lucky you’re injured or I’d have my hands all over you. It would be sweet revenge for that stunt you pulled on me when I was in the shower last week.”

 

Tom leaned his head back against the rim of the bathtub and closed his eyes. “You enjoyed that,” he murmured knowingly.

 

“I can’t argue with you there.” Russell was careful not to wet the bandages as he washed Tom’s hair next, working the shampoo into a lather and then pressing his fingertips into the hybrid’s scalp. “You’re really tense. Think you can stay conscious for a massage?”

 

“That would be great, Russ,” Tom sighed as he felt Russell’s soapy fingers slip down to his shoulders where they began to work into his tight, knotted muscles.

 

“And Tom…”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The next time you get into a physical fight, make sure you guard your body.” As much as Russell didn’t want to criticize his husband’s fighting techniques, or lack thereof, the fear that he’d felt for Tom’s life demanded he speak his mind. Because Tom was accustomed to going after criminals with his firearm, or using his speed and agility to disarm and restrain regular men before they posed any real threat. In a small town like Homestead, Russell doubted that Tom had ever been in a long, drawn-out fistfight. Not like Russell who had been in more scuffles than he cared to remember. “You can protect your head and your body at the same time. But you’ve got to lower your center of gravity and crouch… keep your elbows in tight and your body on an angle.” Russell continued to instruct Tom on how to defend himself as his fingers grasped the hybrid’s neck and shoulders, massaging the kinks out. When Tom made a small noise of content, Russell leaned over to kiss him on the lips. “Are you listening to me?”

 

“I heard every patronizing word, Russ,” Tom said mildly as he leaned forward a bit so that Russell could get between his shoulder blades.

 

“And…?” Russell went after the sore spot between Tom’s shoulder blades with his thumbs, massaging the soapy smooth flesh with upward strokes until the hybrid was much more relaxed under his hands.

 

“And I love you.” And although Tom didn’t actually come out and say it, somewhere in there was the hidden phrase _you were worth it_.

 

“That’s a really cute way to get out of being lectured, Tom,” Russell grumbled, wrapping his arms around Tom’s chest and just holding him close, getting soap all over his arms and shampoo against the side of his face. “Seriously though, not that I didn’t already love you, but I think that I love you even more after that really sexy underwater kiss you gave me.”

 

Tom merely grinned, holding still when Russell supported his neck with one hand, while pouring a cup of water over his head with the other to rinse his hair. Always being mindful of his bandages. Always so compassionate and gentle.

 

“Okay. Time’s up.” Having finished rinsing Tom off, Russell drained the water and helped the sleepy hybrid out of the bathtub. Once he had toweled Tom off and helped him into bed, he returned to use the showerhead on full blast. He scrubbed the dirt and alien fibers out from underneath his nails, washed his hair and body, and rinsed the blood off of his legs. He hadn’t been very careful with his own bandages so he would need to change them again or risk bleeding all over their clean bed sheets.

 

It was past three in the morning when Russell finally climbed into bed beside Tom, having turned off all the lights and armed the security system. “Tom?” He pressed up against Tom’s back and wrapped an arm carefully around him. “Are you sleeping?”

 

“No. I was waiting for you.”

 

Russell smiled and kissed Tom’s shoulder. “You just can’t break the habit, can you? Even when you should be resting.”

 

“I can’t sleep without you beside me. Nothing is going to change that.” Tom placed his hand over Russell’s and suppressed a yawn. “Sometimes you amaze me, Russ. The things that you’re capable of…”

 

“Where you’re concerned, I have no limits,” Russell said flippantly, trying to downplay his own heroism.

 

“Goodnight, Russ,” Tom said quietly, ignoring the way his husband had just deflected his compliment.

 

“Goodnight, Tom,” Russell replied softly. But for a long time sleep evaded him as his mind was too preoccupied with replaying the upsetting events of the last few hours.


	3. Chapter 3

A few hours into a very deep sleep, Russell was nudged awake by the feeling of a hand stroking over his chest and the sound of faint whispering by his ear. He opened his eyes a fraction so that he could look at Tom in the pale light of dawn that was shining through the heavy drapes over their bedroom window. The hybrid was only wearing his pajama pants and Russell had nothing but his briefs on, so their skin felt extra warm and sensitive wherever they were in direct contact with each other. Tom’s hand was moving in patterns over Russell’s chest as he pressed up against him, and he was resting his head against the crook of Russell’s neck. The closeness of Tom’s body was a welcoming sensation, but the odd intonation to whatever the hybrid was whispering was not. It took a few drowsy seconds for Russell to realize that Tom was not speaking English. In fact, he was fairly certain that the words his husband was uttering didn’t belong to any language known to man. Russell had been sharing a bed with Tom for well over a year, and in all that time, he had never heard the hybrid talk in his sleep, never mind recite incantations – if that’s what they were.

 

“Tom?”

 

At first, Russell was sorely tempted to wake Tom up to put an end to the strange chanting that he seemed to be repeating over and over again. Only when he realized that Tom’s tone sounded defensive and not threatening did he cautiously leave him be. Tom was quite quick and intelligent when it came to learning new things, so it was entirely possible that he had somehow picked up the language that the aliens spoke in. Perhaps he was defending himself in his dream and Russell waking him would disturb his concentration.

 

Choosing to hold Tom against him instead of doing anything to disrupt the chanting, Russell admired the beautiful man in his arms and just listened. Tom was perfect in every way – tall, lean and toned, with a soft raspy voice that was enough to get Russell excited on the worst of days. And his dreamy blue eyes, framed by extra long eyelashes that made them all the more expressive, were the cause of many minor accidents around the house. All Tom needed to do to really mess with Russell’s mind was to look at him with that seductive gaze and everything else would soon be forgotten. Russell and Tom were the ideal example of _opposites attract_ with Russell being the tall, brawny ruffian who lived his life passionately and unapologetically, while Tom was much more reserved and cautious, depending on his brains and intuition for survival.

 

“What’s going on inside your head?” Russell wondered quietly as Tom’s alien enunciation became clearer and more distinct. But there were so many syllables and unpredictable alterations to Tom’s speech that Russell had difficulty following it, never mind predicting what was to come next. However, he did recognize a pattern after the third time through, confirming his earlier suspicions that there was a purpose to what Tom was saying.

 

Russell remembered the first time he had connected with Tom. It had to have been about four and a half months after Larkin had passed away – and a little less than a month after Tom’s divorce, on a clear night with a full moon. He had driven up to the small fishing pond – the one where the old townsmen flocked to on the weekend – to be alone. On a weekday night it was always deserted, offering Russell the solitude he had thought he’d wanted. He had been standing out on the dock in front of his parked jeep, just watching the stillness of the moonlit water, when a vehicle with the headlights turned off had pulled up alongside him. His irritation had faded fast when he’d seen Tom get out of his cruiser, sensing a sort of comradely loneliness muddying up the hybrid’s aura.

 

“ _Russ…”_ Tom’s voice had been casual on the outside, but rough with emotion on the inside. And he’d just lingered there, not knowing what to say, while Russell lifted the beer bottle that he’d been drinking from up to his lips and gulped down a mouthful before speaking.

 

“ _You on duty?”_ He had asked as his eyes had drifted to the utility belt at Tom’s waist, not finding a gun in the holster.

 

_“Not as of ten minutes ago. Why?”_

_“I hate drinking alone.”_ And Russell had held out the beer bottle to Tom, waiting for him to move away from the car door and come closer. He had watched as Tom gave him a searching look before bringing the mouth of the bottle up to his lips, tentatively sipping at the beverage. _“Yeah, it’s the cheap stuff. And it’s not cold. But life is like that, isn’t it?”_ And then, to his amusement, Tom had swallowed down a good amount before returning it to him.

 

 _“It’s better than nothing,”_ Tom had conceded, having sounded in need of a drink of his own as he followed Russell’s gaze out onto the water.

 

Russell had wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle again, nearly emptying the contents in one long draw, while giving Tom a curious sideways look. He had been on his third bottle of beer and was just beginning to feel buzzed, so the thought that he’d just shared an indirect kiss with the hybrid had passed off as nothing more than the alcohol talking. _“If you have no place better to be, you may as well get comfortable,”_ he’d boldly suggested, leaning back against the front bumper of his jeep and inviting Tom to do the same. But when the hybrid had sidled closer to him in acceptance of the invitation, Russell had felt something come over him. Something hot and primal and demanding. His fingers had suddenly begun to grasp the bumper hard, his tongue running along his dry lips when Tom took the bottle from him and made a show of finishing it off. And damn if that hadn’t been enough to get his blood flowing, the sight of those pale pink lips sucking the last few drops out of that raised beer bottle, and those intense blue eyes veiled by such long eyelashes had definitely done it. That hadn’t been the first time that he had appraised Tom in a sexual manner, but it had been the first time that he’d acted on those feelings.

 

Before Russell’s brain had been able to interfere with his testosterone, he was grabbing Tom by the wrist, forcing him to lower the bottle, and shoving him back onto the hood of his jeep. He hadn’t really known what he was after until his mouth had covered the hybrid’s, drawing a startled sound of protest out of him. Tom had attempted to throw him off at first, the beer bottle being driven into his stomach in warning. But Russell was not a man who could be easily dissuaded, so he had pressed down onto Tom, his thigh between the hybrid’s legs and his hand cupping the side of his face. The instant he had forced his tongue between Tom’s lips and into his warm mouth, the hybrid had tensed up all over and let go of the beer bottle. It had struck the bumper on the way down and shattered by Russell’s left foot. A small noise like that hadn’t been able to distract him from his pleasure, and that pleasure had taken the form of one quickly subdued sheriff. At first, Russell had kept his grip on Tom’s wrist firm enough to bruise, probing the hot mouth beneath his until he’d come to his senses and toned down his aggressiveness so that the hybrid could escape if he really wanted to. He had pulled back a little to give Tom room to breathe and then muttered huskily, _“If you really want me off, you’d better try harder than that, Tom. Or you can just lean back and enjoy yourself. Your choice.”_

_“How drunk are you?”_ Tom had demanded in a breathless whisper, as if speaking in a normal tone might set Russell off. His lips had been moist with Russell’s saliva, and his cheeks and ears quite a harsh shade of pink.

 

 _“Not at all,”_ Russell had said in disappointment as he began to caress Tom’s face, bringing the hybrid’s bruised wrist up to his lips to kiss it. Because Tom was no longer fighting him, and he was too sober to deny that his attraction to his pseudo friend was no longer off limits.

 

At that, Tom had narrowed his clear blue eyes at Russell and spurred him on by gripping him by his dark bearded jaw. _“Then try kissing me like you aren’t,”_ he had demanded.

 

Nothing short of getting himself arrested could have torn Russell off of Tom that night.

 

Russell gazed down into Tom’s sleeping face and marveled at how far they had come since then. After thirty minutes of nonstop chanting, Tom had fallen silent, curling up closer against Russell, and sinking into a deeper layer of sleep where nothing could threaten him. That Tom trusted him that much made Russell’s heart ache.

 

For quite a while after Tom’s breathing had evened out, Russell just lay there in contemplation, wondering if it was wise to allow the hybrid to try to psychically hone in on the group of aliens that were bent on killing them. Physically, Russell could protect Tom if the aliens tried to go after him, so long as he had his wits and a firearm about him. Psychically, there would be nothing he could do if Tom were to be defeated on that plane of existence. He still had trouble understanding what exactly it was Tom was experiencing when he _sensed_ other hybrids, or _felt_ the aliens rifling through his memories, never mind being able to actively participate in what was going on.

 

Just as Russell was drifting off to sleep, Tom made a peculiar sound and the chanting started up again. But this time, Tom didn’t sound too confident and his incomprehensible words were rising in volume. Not knowing what else to do, Russell embraced the hybrid possessively and began to stroke his hair, murmuring words of encouragement to him. But not loud enough to throw the rhythm of the chanting off.

 

It continued for over an hour this time, and by the time Tom was finished, his throat was dry and he was trembling all over. Was this how the aliens drove some of the hybrids mad with their psycho-manipulation? Still, Russell could not risk waking Tom up for fear of doing more harm than good.

 

Russell willed himself to stay awake for another twenty minutes after Tom had become quiet, listening to the hybrid’s labored breathing gradually return to normal again. But even after that, Russell continued to startle himself awake every fifteen or so minutes to check on Tom, ensuring that he hadn’t stopped breathing in his sleep. He wished that there was some way he could sever the connection that linked Tom to the aliens. It hadn’t been active in nearly two years, but now it was starting up again many times worse than before. How much more could Tom’s hybrid mind take before he caved under the pressure?

 

By the time nine o’clock rolled around, Russell was just itching to get out of bed for the sake of giving his anxiety a rest. As he was trying to gently extricate himself from Tom’s grasp, he suddenly felt the hybrid’s hand on his wrist.

 

“Tom, you’re awake!”

 

But Tom didn’t react to Russell’s relieved exclamation. He gazed urgently up at Russell with a look of complete exhaustion and motioned to the end table where Russell kept his cell phone and calendar. “Give me your park ranger manual and a pen.”

 

“My manual? I don’t use that--.”

 

Before Russell could finish with _anymore_ , Tom was repeating himself. “The manual and a pen. _Please._ ”

 

Not bothering to ask why Tom wanted the manual, he went into the drawer by his side of the bed and pulled out the useless manual, along with a ballpoint pen. As soon as both were in Tom’s hands, the hybrid lay back with the manual opened to the map of the Glades. He quickly skimmed the tip of the pen over it without pressing down, until he got to an area off to the south. The pen stopped and ground into the paper harshly, nearly ripping it as Tom marked a large X over a cove that was off-limits to both staff and visitors. There had been many accidents in that area caused by erosion and sinkholes, so it was no longer being monitored or maintained.

 

“ _This_ is where they are,” Tom explained without preamble. “There are five of them. The last five aliens waiting for humans to clone.”

 

“Is that what you were doing this morning? You were spying on them in your sleep?” Russell made a sound of disbelief and pulled down the blankets when Tom gasped in pain. “And you rolled onto your stitches, too. You could have at least warned me that you were going to do that. I thought we agreed that you needed to rest before you attempted to do something so idiotic.”

 

“I had no choice, Russ. They attacked me again in my sleep. And while they were trying to pry information out of me, I retaliated by doing the same to them.”

 

“They _attacked_ you? In your sleep?!” Russell looked at Tom in shock, which soon turned into anger when he saw the undisguised pain and fear in the hybrid’s stricken blue eyes. “Be honest with me, Tom. Can you hold them off?”

 

“There are five of them…” Tom’s voice faltered and he made no effort to offer his husband any reassuring lies.

 

“That’s five too many. By the way, you were speaking in some strange language this morning, while you were still asleep. When were you going to tell me that you could communicate with them on this level? And what am I supposed to do when you become distressed during your sleep?”

 

“I don’t know how or when I learned it. Yesterday was the first time I became aware that I could communicate with them. It was also the first time they psychically attacked me. I don’t have all the answers, Russ. I just know that it’s very important for you to be nearby if they attack me again. You’re like my anchor. Without you…” Tom swallowed hard and reached for Russell’s hand.

 

But Russell bent down to hug Tom instead, being careful not to squeeze him too tightly. “You’ll never be without me,” he promised, knowing how being left alone and abandoned was Tom’s greatest fear. “We’re in this together, Tom. Remember _until death do us part_? And even then I have no intention of letting you go.” Russell pulled back so that he could kiss Tom, watching him struggle to bring his emotions back under control. “If you don’t think you can continue to fight them, then we need to go after them tonight. They can be destroyed by fire, so I propose we douse them with gasoline and light them up.”

 

“ _Tonight_?! Russ, I don’t think I can sit up, never mind stand and fight. How am I going to be able to help you?”

 

“I don’t need physical help with this, Tom. I need you to distract them psychically while I get into position. They’re going to keep coming after you unless we do this, so the best thing for you to do is go on the offensive. And after tonight, they’ll never be able to threaten you again.” Russell was about to say something else but the sound of the front doorbell ringing threw him off. “Tom, are you expecting someone?”

“No. Lewis told me to take the rest of the week off. He knows that I won’t be coming into work today.”

 

“The rest of the week?” Russell groaned. “So when you said you felt _dizzy_ at work, what you really meant was you either fainted or collapsed? Because I don’t see any other reason for your deputy pressuring you into taking the week off.” When Tom didn’t answer, Russell sat back against the pillows and pulled the hybrid into his arms. “If I weren’t so worried about you, I would be really pissed off about now.”

 

Again, the doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking.

 

“Are you sure it isn’t one of _your_ coworkers?” Tom asked, trying to change the subject. “Maybe someone wants to ask you about that broken door handle.”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

Russell stiffened, his arms tightening around Tom when their bedroom window was suddenly pounded on several times by an impatient fist. Their bedroom was on the first floor, but facing the backyard, so whoever was out there had broken the lock on the gate.

 

“ _Sheriff Underlay!”_ A loud voice shouted up against the glass. “ _It’s Deputy Marks! I’m here about your car keys!”_

Russell felt Tom’s heart rate skyrocket beneath his arms as the hybrid began to breathe quicker and shallower. “Relax. You can’t get worked up in your condition,” Russell said firmly, but quietly. “Is Marks a hybrid?”

 

“ _Sheriff Underlay!”_ The knocking continued. “ _I know you’re at home.”_

 

“Yes. He’s a hybrid who I don’t necessarily see eye-to-eye with,” Tom whispered shakily. “But he _knows_ about the keys.”

 

“He’s going to know about my fist for trespassing,” Russell said angrily as he got out of bed and pulled on a pair of track pants.

 

“He’s a deputy, Russ! You can’t just--.”

 

“Watch me!” Russell stormed out of the bedroom, went to the front door where he disarmed the security alarm, and jammed his feet into a pair of sneakers. He then unlocked and flung open the door, glared at the cruiser parked in the driveway, relocked the door behind him, and went after the uninvited guest in the backyard. As he approached the gate, he saw that the lock had indeed been forced open and the surrounding wood damaged. “HEY!” He shouted at the young, dark haired deputy in full uniform who was pressed up against the bedroom window, trying to see inside. “Nobody gave you permission to come in here,” he ground out, barely able to contain his fury when he noticed how the deputy was trampling on the roses in front of the window. _Tom’s_ roses.

 

Deputy Marks turned to face Russell, taking in his state of undress, but keeping an eye on the bedroom window for movement. “It’s nearly 10am,” he stated in unspoken disapproval.

 

“What gives you the right to break into my backyard?!” Russell demanded to know, ignoring the obvious jibe to his state of employment.

 

“I’m looking for Sheriff Underlay,” Deputy Marks said firmly, refusing to budge from his spot near the window. He had to be a few years younger than Russell and slightly shorter, maybe around Tom’s height, but whereas Russell was well built, Deputy Marks was just stocky and soft looking. Not really one to be implying that others were lazy.

 

“In case you weren’t informed, _my husband_ took the rest of the week off to recover from his injury. And I’m pretty sure that banging on your superior’s bedroom window during off-hours goes against normal protocol, so why don’t you tell me what you want… and then _get the hell off of my property_!”

 

“I’m guessing you’re not a man who knows how to respect authority, Varon,” Deputy Marks said coldly as he dangled Tom’s key ring in front of Russell’s red face and took a threatening step closer. “I found these down by your favorite picnicking spot. Along with the sheriff’s cruiser – unlocked. Now you’d better get your _husband_ out here to answer some questions or this is going to end in some pretty serious negligence charges against him.”

 

Russell refused to back down, glaring wildly at Deputy Marks as he made an observation of his own. “I wasn’t aware that anyone knew about our favorite picnicking spot. Are you stalking my husband?”

 

“Just get him out here, _park ranger_ ,” Deputy Marks spat condescendingly.

 

“ _Park ranger_?” Russell repeated in a very dark tone. “The last person I remember calling me that was a sick bastard going by the name of Szura. You wouldn’t happen to be a follower of his, would you?”

 

Again, Deputy Marks took another step closer so that he was literally in Russell’s face, daring him to physically retaliate, or warning him to back away like a coward. His pale green eyes bore into Russell’s brown ones as his lips curled up into a sneer. “Just get your weak incompetent _bitch_ of a husband out here and leave the detective work to the educated people who work in law enforcement, _park ranger_.”

 

Russell might have been able to let the condescension towards his own profession slide seeing as how he was up against a badge, but he wasn’t about to pretend that he hadn’t heard the way Deputy Marks had insulted and degraded Tom. A white hot ire flashed inside of him, manifesting itself in a vicious right hook that knocked the deputy’s head to the side. Even as the deputy stumbled back into the bed of daffodils, Russell knew that he had foolishly done exactly as was expected of him.

 

Deputy Marks straightened up, not touching his left cheek that Russell had succeeded in splitting open. “Good job, Varon. Now I can write you up on assault charges. Szura was right. You are nothing but a stupid _park ranger_.”

 

“I’m married to the sheriff,” Russell cockily pointed out, furious enough to smash Deputy Marks’ face into the brick wall to get rid of him, if that’s what it took. “And you’re trespassing on his property. I’m well within my rights to put a bullet in you for refusing to get back in your car and get the hell out of here.”

 

“Why don’t we settle this down at the station?” The deputy’s hand drifted towards his firearm in warning. “And while you’re explaining to my colleagues how overprotective you are of your husband, I’ll be back here forcing his early retirement. But don’t worry about the financial burden. All the sheriff’s funeral arrangements will be covered by the government. But your visits to the county shrink won’t be, so you’d better hope you have enough to cover it. You’re going to need it for what I intend to do to your _bitch_.”

 

Maybe the deputy had figured that his threats would shock or terrify Russell into complying with his demands, or maybe he was just cocky about his reaction time. Whatever the case, he obviously hadn’t anticipated Russell tackling him to the ground and going for his gun. As tired and worn out as Russell may have felt, he was always in a state of hypervigilance. And nothing got his adrenaline going faster than someone threatening to hurt Tom.

 

Before the deputy could regain control of the situation, Russell had removed the firearm and thrown it halfway across the backyard. Then he was crushing his hands down against Deputy Marks’ throat, his fingers grinding into the man’s flesh like hateful talons. He used the entirety of his strength and weight to hold the deputy down on the grass as he started to choke the life out of him. “I’ll put you in an unmarked grave before I let you lay one finger on Tom,” he spat into the man’s face.

 

But the problem with hybrids was that some of them were endowed with special powers. While Tom was gifted with a supernatural insight and some vague psychic aptitude, there were others who were tainted with less wholesome attributes. Deputy Marks seemed to be one of a handful of dangerous hybrids who had been reborn with remarkable strength and a violent nature. Despite Russell’s best attempts to hold the deputy down, the man continued to thrash about as if the possibility of having his windpipe bashed in didn’t bother him at all. He punched Russell in the ribs and grabbed him by his arms, nearly succeeding in throwing him off.

 

Russell couldn’t allow the deputy to escape, no matter what the cost. Grabbing the man by his hair with one hand, and still choking him with the other, Russell flipped him onto his belly and shoved his face into the dirt beside the uprooted roses. He held on with all his might, trying to suffocate him in a mad desperation born of his need to protect Tom. The deputy bucked and clawed at the dirt, scraping his nails down the brick wall as he tried to pull himself free. And then… he ceased to move at all. Russell waited two more minutes before he wrenched the man up out of the dirt, checked his breathing and took his pulse, and then dragged him towards the door that led to the basement. Moving quickly so that the neighbors wouldn’t see anything, he unlocked the door, threw the body inside, and locked the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Russell returned to the bedroom, he was struck by the sight of Tom lying on the floor on his side, groaning in pain. The hybrid was breathing hard and trembling even harder, his blue eyes wide with fright. “Tom, what the hell are you doing?” Russell dropped to his knees beside Tom and touched the side of his face.

 

“What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? I thought he was going to kill you,” Tom said in a voice wracked with grief. “What have you done, Russ? What the _hell_ have you done?”

 

“Lie still. I’m going to change your bandages and give you some more morphine.” Russell kept his voice calm as he gently removed the bandages and checked the stitches, cleaning the area before taping new bandages in their place. “You shouldn’t have tried to get out of bed. You’re not going to heal if you don’t rest.”

 

“Where is the deputy? Answer me, Russell!”

 

“The son-of-a-bitch is chained up in our basement, okay? I didn’t know what else to do with him. He knows what we did, or at least I think he does, but even if he doesn’t, he has his own agenda. And it involves killing you!”

 

“Why do you always have to attack first and think about the consequences later? You have the mayor’s nephew chained up in our basement. You’re aware of that, right?”

 

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Russell muttered. “You wouldn’t be lecturing me if you had.” He carefully lifted Tom off of the floor and helped him sit back down on the bed. “Just lie down and relax. I’ll take care of this.”

 

“So you have a plan?”

 

“No, I don’t have a plan. But I’ll still take care of it.”

 

“If you don’t have a plan, then I think I’ll take over from here.” Tom tried to move again but could hardly push away from the bed, much less stand. “Russ, help me up.”

 

“You’re not seriously going to try and talk to him, are you? He’s nuts! Like following-in-the-footsteps-of-Szura nuts.”

 

“Maybe this deputy showing up doesn’t have to be so terrible, Russ. It could be an opportunity instead.”

 

“Oh yeah? An opportunity to do what exactly?” Russell asked skeptically.

 

“If I can defend myself against psychic attacks staged by the aliens, maybe I can also use their tactics against other hybrids. We need to know how many people Deputy Marks is working with and what they are planning, as well as how much he knows about the aliens in the first place. I’m confident I can get the information out of him, Russ. And after I’m through, I’ll erase his memory and leave you in the clear.”

 

“There’s something you’re not understanding, Tom. He’s seriously messed up and violent. Chained up or not, I’m worried that he might try to hurt you.”

 

“I trust you won’t let that happen,” Tom said sincerely. “We have to do this before someone realizes he hasn’t reported in and they send another patrol car down here. You’ll be looking at some serious time for assaulting a law enforcement officer and forcible confinement if I don’t take care of this.”

 

“This just keeps getting worse and worse.” Russell helped Tom get his pajama top on and then draped a cardigan around his shoulders. “The basement is freezing so you’d better not stay down there long.” He kept his arm around Tom’s waist all the way to the basement, moving as slowly as the hybrid needed to, and catching him when he faltered or swayed on his feet.

 

Having had barely enough money to furnish the first floor of the house, Tom hadn’t had anything to put towards renovating the cold grey ice box that was passing off as their basement. Russell was still paying Mariel child support for their two kids so he hadn’t been able to scrounge up enough to make the basement livable. They had plans to add a game room and two guestrooms in the future, and maybe a billiards table, but for now, it was all grey cement and unpainted support beams. There weren’t any light fixtures either, save for a random bulb hanging from the ceiling here and there.

 

“How perfect,” Deputy Marks said sarcastically from where he sat with his wrists chained to a support beam behind his back, his battered neck illuminated by the light bulb above his head. Russell had used a pair of Tom’s handcuffs to lock the deputy’s wrists together, because the deputy hadn’t had a pair on him. “You brought your bitch, Varon. Good for you. Now we can get down to business.”

 

“Watch how you address a superior officer,” Tom reprimanded the deputy coldly, trying to conceal the extent of his injuries by holding himself up as straight as possible and not altering his facial expression… until Deputy Marks looked him up and down in a lewd fashion.

 

“There’s nothing superior about you, Tom Underlay-Varon. You allow yourself to be dominated by an unchanged human. And a stupid one at that. If you like how it feels to be dominated, maybe I should give you a taste of how a hybrid does it. You’ll never want to go back.”

 

“Tom!” Russell warned sharply when his husband nearly lunged forward to attack Deputy Marks. He didn’t have to try very hard to hold Tom back because he was too weak to stand on his own, but he did have to keep him calm. “This is what I was talking about when I said he was crazy. He’ll say anything to get a rise out of you. Just ignore him and do what you came down here to do.”

 

Tom averted his eyes when Deputy Marks kept leering at him, and took a deep breath to prepare himself… when the deputy said something even more disturbing.

 

“You’re a fascinating specimen, _Tom_. So loyal and dedicated to your master that you would even be willing to compromise your career by engaging in sexual activities in a public place. You performed so well for your audience,” he said with a sneer. “And as soon as I get out of here, I guarantee that you’ll be servicing me next. You’ll moan like a bitch in heat… until I slit your throat and take your position as the new sheriff of Homestead.”

 

This time it was Russell who reacted to Deputy Marks’ taunts, pushing Tom to sit down on the stairs so that he could go after the prisoner with his fists bared. “You make one more threat towards him and I’ll knock all your teeth down your throat.”

 

“I really ought to thank you, _park ranger_. If it hadn’t been for your stupidity, I never would have been able to get this close to your bitch in the first place.”

 

Russell jumped back when Deputy Marks suddenly wrenched his wrists apart from behind the support beam, snapping the handcuffs that had been keeping him at bay. He froze, overcome with the terrifying realization that he was weaponless against a powerful hybrid, with Tom vulnerable and helpless behind him. There wasn’t much he could do but hold the deputy off until Tom could get away. “Tom, get out of here! Now!” Before Russell could attack the deputy, he was grabbed by his arm and swung into the support beam headfirst. The impact sent off an explosion of pain in his head and everything in his direct line of vision began to split into two and blur out of focus as he stumbled to keep his balance. He staggered after the deputy, grabbing for him, trying to keep him away from Tom, but ultimately failed.

 

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you, _Sheriff_ ,” Deputy Marks said with a sneer as his foot hit the first step and he leaned down to grab for Tom.

 

Tom’s response was to raise his arms to deflect Deputy Marks’, a tormented sound of pain escaping him as the deputy’s fingers laced with his own, grabbing tight before shoving him back onto the stairs where he hit the back of his head. He struggled, trying to use the strength in his arms to push the deputy backwards, but at a serious disadvantage when it came to both leverage and strength. He was no match for the deputy on a physical level and his injury was only serving to compound that fact. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Russell barreling towards them in a mindless rage, blood streaking down from the gash on his forehead. But judging by Deputy Marks’ insane strength and determination, the only thing capable of stopping him was a bullet to the head.

 

“What should I do first, _Tom_? Kill your husband or use you and let him watch?”

 

For a second, Tom looked absolutely appalled and terrified by the options Deputy Marks had given him. Until he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gave his response through his clenched teeth. And that response was not in English.

 

Russell seized Deputy Marks from behind in a headlock, crushing the man’s throat as he yanked him off of Tom, dragged him halfway across the basement, and threw him onto the cold cement. He then began to kick him on the floor, not caring that the deputy was just lying there in a sort of blind stupor and not defending himself.

 

“ _Russell!”_ Tom shouted, his eyes still closed in deep concentration. “Please don’t do that while I am linked to him.”

 

“What?!” Russell paused with his heel raised above the deputy’s face, barely having enough willpower left to lower it again without making contact. He stood there, his shoulders heaving in fury as he listened to Tom begin to chant in that alien language. Looking down again at the deputy, he noticed his expression becoming more lax, more malleable, as Tom experimented on a hybrid with his psychic powers for the first time. Expecting immediate results, Russell hung close to the deputy, ready to hear him divulge the plan of the aliens, or some other useful information. But not a single word escaped from his lips. The only sound that echoed in the cold, damp basement were the foreign words that Tom exercised with advanced proficiency.

 

After ten minutes had gone by, Russell cautiously backed away from the deputy to sit on the step beside Tom and hug him in relief. Abruptly the chanting stopped and Tom sat there silently in a trancelike state for another twenty minutes.

 

When Deputy Marks began to writhe on the floor and claw at his head, Russell glanced at Tom, finding his expression calm and unaffected by the frantic display before him. And after another five minutes, the deputy got up off of the ground and approached the staircase.

 

“Tom,” Russell said nervously as he glanced at his husband and back at the violent deputy in front of him.

 

“Let him go,” Tom gasped, nearly at his limit where psychic influence was concerned. “Follow him upstairs and make sure he gets into his car and drives away.”

 

Russell did as he was told, trailing the deputy up the stairs, out the back door, and around to the front, all the while needing to fight the urge to rip him apart for what he had tried to do to Tom. He watched the deputy brush off his uniform, straighten his hair, and go around to the driver’s side door of his cruiser. Once inside, he turned on his radio and made some announcement about being jumped by a prowler in the neighborhood – his own neighborhood, before starting the engine and driving away. Not once did he look in Russell’s direction or give any indication that he was being psychically coerced into doing exactly as Tom instructed him to.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Russell asked as he checked on Tom’s stitches on the bed back in their bedroom. Tom’s recovered car keys were sitting on the hybrid’s bedside table, along with a hot cup of coffee and a cream cheese lettuce and tomato bagel on a small plate. After the bizarre altercation in the basement, Tom had become awfully quiet and introspective, not sharing what he had learned from violating Deputy Marks’ mind. Knowing fully well how Tom reacted under pressure, Russell kept his burning questions to himself, waiting for the hybrid to organize his thoughts and voluntarily offer up the information.

 

“No, not at all,” Tom replied, his eyes clouded with distress as he let Russell play nurse to him.

 

“Can you please talk about it so that I can help you?”

 

“I’ll give you the good news first. There’s no need for you to go out to the Glades tonight.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“By this time, the aliens should have been taken care of by Deputy Marks.”

 

Russell looked at Tom in a combination of shock and disbelief. “How the hell were you able to pull that off? What did you make him do?”

 

“The violent hybrids are the ones that are more susceptible to manipulation, Russ. I convinced him that the aliens were a threat to him and gave him all the information he would need in order to locate them and exterminate them. But that hybrid is an unstable threat all on his own, so I made sure to instruct him to leave enough evidence so that he would be caught afterwards. I can’t work alongside that kind of power-hungry menace.”

 

“Okay, so Deputy Marks kills the hybrids and then gets arrested for what? Trespassing, arson, and damaging public property?”

 

“That alone should be enough to hold him, and even if it isn’t, the fact that he killed the aliens that most of the unstable hybrids worship should make him quite a few enemies in the community.”

 

Russell nodded in approval but withheld judgment, wanting to wait and see if Deputy Marks could actually be brainwashed into committing an act of violence against the creatures he idolized as gods. “So what’s the bad news?” When Tom silently lowered his gaze and refused to answer, Russell placed his hand over the hybrid’s left wrist where the MedicAlert bracelet was still securely fastened, and squeezed it reassuringly.

 

“Do you ever wish you could unlearn something, Russ?”

 

“All the time. Why? What did you see when you were in his mind?”

 

“My own ignorance.”

 

Russell waited, and when Tom didn’t continue, he coaxed him into speaking again by wrapping an arm around him and kissing him on the forehead.

 

“I thought that I was doing such a great job of managing the sheriff’s department. I thought that I had earned the respect and loyalty of my deputies. But now I’m aware of every insult and mutinous conversation that was uttered behind my back. Deputy Marks is not the only one who is after my position, nor is he the only hybrid that I work with. And to have my marriage mocked by a bunch of perverted imbeciles…”

 

“Tom, I hate to break it to you but that’s human nature. I know that you have this vision of everyone living happily ever after in a world free of crime and hatred, but it’s not going to happen. I sometimes overhear shit when I’m at work, too. There’s nothing we can do but try to ignore it and live our lives. You’ve worked really hard to get where you are and shouldn’t let some ambitious bigoted pricks get to you.” Russell sighed, deciding that it was time to change the subject. “The past twenty-four hours have been really rough on the both of us. I think that I’m going to call in sick for the rest of the week and take you someplace nice to get your mind off of things.”

 

“Where did you have in mind?”

 

“You’ll see…”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, when Tom was strong enough to walk unaided, Russell packed up the jeep and set off on a mystery trip. The air was a lot cooler than it had been in the last month, so Russell had pulled on a long sleeved denim shirt over his black top and was wearing dark camouflage cargo pants to keep the mosquitoes away. Tom had chosen a less noticeable outfit consisting of a light blue hoodie and a pair of navy blue slacks designed for the outdoors.

 

On the way to wherever they were going, Russell had stocked up the cooler with ice, beef, chicken, eggs, bacon, and sausages – and there were an assortment of vegetables and fruits on the backseat – so it was safe to say that they were going to have a barbecue when they reached their destination.

 

“How’s your side?” Russell asked over the noise of the wind while keeping his eyes on the road up ahead. They had set out early so there were only a couple of other vehicles on the country highway. The ones that were traveling too slowly Russell overtook one by one, intent on making good time before the road became congested with produce farmers.

 

“Much better, especially after you took out those stitches this morning. I think that your blood actually sped up the healing process.”

 

“Well something must’ve, because normal humans don’t heal that fast,” Russell said in amazement. “I think that it probably won’t leave a scar judging by how well it’s clearing up.”

 

“I have you to thank for that, Russ,” Tom said softly, gazing at his husband in undisguised gratitude and admiration.

 

“And I have you to thank for swimming down after me and getting yourself injured in the first place. So we’re even,” Russell replied warmly. “Hey, there’s a corn stand up ahead. Do you want me to stop for some?”

 

“How are we going to eat all this food? I think you have enough for three or four days.”

 

“Three days. That’s how long our little trip is going to be,” Russell said as he pulled to the side of the road in front of the corn stand.

 

“We’re going camping for three days? Russ, I don’t know the first thing about camping,” Tom objected as his husband traded four dollars for five ears of corn, thanked the farmer, signaled left and returned to the highway.

 

“You did fine on that one night we camped on the beach,” Russell reminded Tom.

 

“That wasn’t camping. That was…”

 

“Memorable,” Russell finished for Tom.

 

About two months after Russell and Tom had started seeing each other, and a week or two after they’d declared their relationship _official_ , things had gotten really steamy one night. Tom had just finished his shift and had been waiting for Russell to pick him up at their regular rendezvous point – the small fishing pond that nobody ever disturbed them at. Their usual routine was to leave Tom’s cruiser down by the pond and take Russell’s less conspicuous jeep to the edge of town to enjoy a meal together before returning to the pond for some serious physical interaction.

 

That night after Russell had arrived, Tom had changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, using the side of the cruiser as a partition for some privacy against any vehicles that should happen to accidentally travel down the dead-end road in the middle of the night. And while Russell usually turned around to allow the modest hybrid the luxury of changing unmolested, that night he just hadn’t been able to keep his eyes, or his hands, to himself. He had nearly gotten Tom’s jeans back off of him when he’d been scolded for his lack of decorum. Which had led to him suggesting that they skip the restaurant and eat in instead.

 

At the time, although divorced, Tom had still been living with Mariel and the kids while searching for a place of his own. And the house that Russell had painstakingly built had been cited for many health and zoning violations after the last hurricane, finally resulting in it being boarded up and condemned by the Board of Health. So Russell’s own living arrangements hadn’t been ideal with him staying at a seedy rundown motel a couple of miles west of the Glades. But there hadn’t been anywhere else for them to go, so Russell had taken Tom back to his temporary room and ordered in some pizza.

 

A few minutes after the pizza had arrived, Russell had decided that he wasn’t actually hungry and had pulled Tom down onto the bed, quickly divesting him of most of his clothes. He had been so hormonally out of his mind that he’d almost missed the sad way that Tom’s eyes were moving from the obvious mold formations on the ceiling, to the stained wallpaper, his hands reluctant to touch the bed sheets that Russell had laid him on.

 

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Russell had asked between kisses, trying to reignite the flame that was no longer burning in the body beneath him.

 

_“I can’t do this here, Russ. I’m sorry.”_

_“Is it because of the weird smell?”_ Russell had been about to change the cartridge on the Glade scented plug-in when Tom had sat up and pulled back on his shirt.

 

 _“That smell is formaldehyde, Russ. Homestead doesn’t have a high crime rate, but most of the murders that do occur take place in this motel.”_ Tom had actually looked sick to his stomach as he’d zipped back up his jeans and uncomfortably stared at the chipped door with its many locks and chains.

 

 _“Shit. I’m sorry, Tom. I had no idea…”_ But luckily, after a moment of considering his options, Russell had come up with a new idea. _“How about we take this pizza to go?”_ While it hadn’t been easy to get Tom back in the mood, it hadn’t been difficult convincing him to take a ride to the beach. And it had been on that beach that their relationship had been pushed past the grey area that it had been hovering in and into something much deeper and meaningful.

 

Russell sighed as he remembered their first time together, which had started off incredibly awkward and full of hesitation, but ended with them satiated and fully committed to each other.

 

“This time I promise not to accidentally kick sand on you,” Russell said with a smirk as he turned onto a narrow dirt path that led down to a secluded beach that only other park rangers were familiar with. The path went on for another fifteen minutes before they found themselves on a very thin strip of beach facing a lake and surrounded by tall trees. Parking the jeep off to one side of the path, Russell got out and began to haul things out of the back. “Now it’s time you learned how to pitch a tent. Get off your cute ass and help me with this stuff.”

 

“That’s an awfully small tent,” Tom said as he observed Russell struggling with an armful of tent poles and the tent itself.

 

“It’s not like we’re going to be doing much sleep in it anyhow. Can you grab that pole and insert it into the opposite side of the frame?”

 

“Sure, Russ.” Tom did as he was asked, took the rest of the poles from Russell, quickly found where they were supposed to go, and had the tent raised in record time. Russell just stared at Tom as the hybrid got the portable barbecue set up next, along with the folding table and chairs, before he took off to admire the view of the lake.

 

With all the preparations complete and lots of daylight to spare, Russell stalked over to the edge of the beach, stripped off everything but his boxer-briefs, and took off racing into the water. He splashed around near the cut-off point, swam a distance along the shoreline, and then returned to find Tom still rooted to the same spot, far from the water.

 

“Come on in,” Russell called to Tom, trying to splash him with the rather chilly lake water. “It’s not too cold.” He held his breath, watching Tom silently debating something in his head, but still coming nowhere near the water. “Tom, it’s a lake,” Russell reminded the hybrid, avoiding coming right out and addressing what his husband was afraid of. “Come on,” he beckoned again, pushing off to float on his back and watch Tom’s hesitant strip show on the beach. When Tom was down to his briefs, he slowly entered the water, using his mind to scan it for hostile entities. “Come here.” Russell wrapped his arms around Tom from behind and pulled him deeper into the water. “Doesn’t this feel much better?”

 

“Yes, it does,” Tom said with a sigh as he leaned back against Russell and closed his eyes.

 

“You still need to heal, Tom. And the water is where hybrids go when they need to do that. So take your time and stay in as long as you need to.” Russell released Tom, letting the hybrid take a tentative step away from him, before diving smoothly into the depths of the lake. Going back to floating on his back, Russell enjoyed the moving clouds and the pale blue sky, trying to keep track of how long Tom had been under so far.

 

After close to half an hour, Tom reappeared next to Russell looking completely refreshed and very energetic. “How long was I under, Russ?”

 

“About thirty minutes or so. Did you find anything interesting?”

 

“Many different kinds of fish, a sunken boat, and a lot of household trash.”

 

“Everything except for the trash sounded interesting. Whoa! You sure came back frisky,” Russell praised when Tom began to grind against him. “Should we go back to the tent, or do you want to try doing it in the water?”

 

“Definitely the water,” Tom said eagerly as his lips met Russell’s in a passionate kiss.

 

The barbecue didn’t happen until later on at night, when Russell and Tom had exhausted themselves in the water, after having learned that the water triggered some extremely erotic biological function in Tom that did away with the need for store bought lubrication. Russell had been in awe when he’d tried to prepare Tom with his fingers and had found him already slick inside. The novelty of that hadn’t worn off for a very long time. Another side effect of the water was that it made Tom very sensitive, horny, and just plain wanton. By the time they’d returned to their campsite, Russell was completely drained and Tom wouldn’t let himself be touched until the sensitivity died down.

 

“I think I feel ten years younger,” Russell mumbled as he chewed on his steak and visually appraised Tom who was spearing a slice of pepper with his fork.

 

“I think I can still feel you inside me,” Tom said just as casually, his eyes still pretty glazed over with lust.

 

“Holy shit! I can’t believe you just said that,” Russell coughed as he choked on his steak. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before. Maybe we’d better consider the water as being an aphrodisiac for you and exercise caution in the future.”

 

“That might be a good idea.” Tom continued to chase the same slice of pepper with his fork while admiring Russell’s muscular chest and washboard abs.

 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to drag you back into the water and see just how much more you can take.”

 

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think I can take anymore tonight. I’m a little overwhelmed… Every time I think that I’ve uncovered the last surprise of being a hybrid, I discover another secret lurking around the next corner for me to run into.” Tom put his plate down and lay down on the sleeping bag by Russell’s side. “I have some sort of psychic power but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t want to use it against other hybrids, and it doesn’t work around normal humans, so its purpose is a mystery to me. And now _this_.” Tom gestured below his waist, not realizing that the reference had gotten Russell salivating again. “It’s all fairly bizarre.”

 

“Or convenient,” Russell corrected him. “How many gay men do you think wouldn’t kill to have that ability.”

 

“I don’t know any other gay men, Russ. Homestead is an oppressive closeted community.”

 

Russell left the corn baking on the barbecue and lay down beside Tom. “I think that you’ve probably uncovered all there is to know about yourself and your body. I can’t see there being anything else, and even if there is, I’m still going to love you no matter what you find. So stop worrying about all your annoying little _what-ifs_ and just concentrate on us being together. Think you can do that?” Russell rolled onto Tom and pinned him to the sleeping back, grinning down at him seductively.

 

“If we’re together, I’m sure I can,” Tom promised, closing his eyes as Russell leaned down to gently kiss him.

 

“No more talking,” Russell breathed as he spent the rest of the night teaching Tom how to relax and let everything else fade into the background.

 


End file.
